Learning to Love
by Lightningwolf325
Summary: Post PoA. Vernon gets sent to a conference in DC. Something happens, and Harry meets the NCIS team, who become determined to show him what family really is. How will the tournament go when Harry has someone who cares? Better summary and pairings inside.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters. NCIS will show up in the next chapter, and I don't own them, either. If I did, do you really think that I'd be on ffn?

Pre-GoF and Post-Good Cop Bad Cop

Author: Lightningwolf325

Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Tony/Ziva, Abby/McGee, possible Ron/Hermione (depends on whether there is bashing or not), Remus/Tonks

Rating: T

Warnings: Child abuse/mention of child abuse (I'm not quite sure which yet), gore, possibly manipulative Dumbledore/Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, Order bashing (again, I'm not quite sure yet), and I'm fairly sure that there'll be Mossad bashing, or at least bashing of Eli David.

Summary: The summer before Goblet of Fire, Harry's uncle gets sent to the States on business. As he was taking his wife and son with him, Harry was going to be sent to Mrs. Figg. However, Mrs. Figg was incapacitated, so Vernon was forced to take his nephew with him. While they are in D.C., the NCIS MCRT is called in and it all takes off from there. How will Harry do in the Triwizard Tournament with people outside Hogwarts who care for him?

Other warnings/stuff: I don't have a beta, so I'm editing this myself. Due to school, my updates will probably be rather irregular, but I will try to get everything in ASAP. The rate that I get chapters done will depend largely on my mood. If I feel that no one is reading this, then it will definintly move down on my list of priorities. With that in mind, reviews are helpful, though I'll probably just continue writing this simply because the plot has been bugging me for a while. But seriously, no flames. Constructive criticism is fine, but I find flames to be just pointless and annoying. If you don't like it, there's a simple solution: _don't read it! _Also, I was born and raised, and am currently living in, the United States, so I'm not quite sure about my British English. I will, however do my best.

So, onto the story!

Learning to Love

Chapter 1

A scarlet steam engine pulled onto the platform. People mulled around it as its passengers disembarked, talking and laughing. Most of them were teenagers, shoving each other and hugging and waving goodbye as their parents ushered them away. The majority of them were happy to be leaving, not having to see the train that carried them to school for another couple of months, though perhaps not quite as joyful to be leaving their friends behind.

While parents were forcibly pulling their children away from the platform, many students were migrating toward a solid brick wall. Though this in itself may seem rather odd, what happened next was even stranger. In groups of twos and threes, these remaining students walked swiftly toward the wall before simply disappearing.

Of course, no one paid them any mind. This was an end-of-the-year ritual. And besides, most of them had first arrived at the train in a similar fashion.

A man standing by the barrier glanced over at a group of three and nodded. The trio, consisting of two boys and a girl, nodded back and began to push the trolleys that were currently holding their trunks. As they reached the wall, they disappeared.

On the other side of the barrier, the trio was overtaken by a pair of red-haired twins.

"What took you lot so long?" asked one of them. One of the boys, a redhead as well, scowled.

"It's not our fault the guard wouldn't let us through," he snapped.

"Ronald, be polite!" reprimanded the girl.

"C'mon Hermione, they're just my brothers!"

"That doesn't mean you have to—"

"So, Harry—"began one of the twins loudly.

"Are you gonna come—"continued the other.

"Over again this summer?" they finished together.

Sighing wistfully, the last boy answered, "I sure hope so. It's up to Dumbledore though. The World Cup'll be here, right?"

"Yep," grinned one of the twins.

"By the way mate, how d'you put up with those two all the time?" the other twin jerked his head over to the brunette and redhead who were now arguing over some obscure, inconsequential subject.

"You get used to it," Harry grinned, raking his hand through his already impossibly messy black hair.

"Oh, Fred, George, there you are! And you found Ron too, good," a slightly plump woman bustled through the crowd, pulling a girl only a bit younger than the trio with her. "Come on, Ginny!"

Rolling her eyes at her brothers, the girl replied, "Yes mum."

Not seeing her daughter's action, the woman turned and smiled at Harry. "Hello, Harry dear. Did you have a good year?"

"Yes, thanks Mrs. Weasley," he replied. Fortunately she didn't seem to catch how his smile became slightly strained at the question as she pulled him into a suffocating hug. Needless to say, he was quite relieved when she turned her attention to the others.

"And Hermione!" she beamed, pulling the bushy-haired girl into another rib-cracking hug.

"Hello Mrs. Weasley," smiled Hermione, shooting a pitying look at Harry as Mrs. Weasley started a tirade about how stressful the year must have been for him, what with Sirius Black out to get him. Harry sighed.

His year had been rather stressful. Aside from the fact that throughout most of it he had thought that the notorious mass-murderer Sirius Black had been trying to kill him, he found out that said murderer was also his godfather and had supposedly betrayed his parents to their killer. And if that wasn't enough, he later found that the man was innocent and the real traitor had been hiding as his best friend's pet rat and had been sleeping in the same dorm as him for the past two—nearly three—years.

He had been so excited at the prospect of leaving the Dursley's—his only living relatives—in order to live with his newly found godfather. Unfortunately, they had been unable to clear Sirius's name before he was forced to leave. That meant that Harry was stuck back at the Dursley's house for the summer.

Harry was jerked back to reality by another bear-hug from Mrs. Weasley and the promise that they would make sure he could come over soon. Saying a reluctant goodbye to his friends, Harry started toward a family of three who were standing slightly off to the side. One of them was a large, beefy man with a bushy mustache that, in Harry's opinion, made him look like a walrus. The other adult, a blond woman with pale eyes and a long neck, looked rather like a horse. Or a giraffe. The final member of the animal-like family was a boy about Harry's size, though much larger. Yes, Harry's cousin certainly resembled a whale.

The walrus-man, Vernon Dursely, stepped forward as Harry approached. "Are you ready to go, boy?" he growled. Averting his eyes so as to not anger his uncle before they even reached the house, Harry nodded.

The ride back to the Dursely household was quiet and tense; not that Harry expected it to be anything otherwise. The Dursely family had a rather strong aversion to magic, and the fact that Harry was their nephew definently didn't stop them from hating him. Harry was a wizard, and that was all that mattered. It also probably didn't help that the last time he had seen them he had inflated Vernon's horrible sister Marge before storming out of the house and leaving them to deal with the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad that was sent by the Ministry of Magic to deflate her. Not that he regretted blowing her up; no, he only thought it was a pity that they couldn't have deflated her giant ego while they were at it.

As the car pulled into the driveway Uncle Vernon turned to Harry. "Get your things up to your room then get your ungrateful butt downstairs; I need to talk to you." With that he opened the door and got out, causing the car to creak upward as the excessive weight was removed.

Picking up Hedwig's cage and dragging his trunk out of the boot, Harry franticly thought back to everything he had done since his departure from the Hogwarts Express. Surely he couldn't already be in trouble with his uncle! Perhaps this was about what had happened last summer. But his uncle couldn't still be this angry about that, could he?

After setting his trunk at the foot of his bed and leaving Hedwig's empty cage on top of it (he had sent her to Ron's house for the time being; he wasn't sure how his uncle would react to her this summer), he walked down to the sitting room. There he found his uncle pacing while Petunia and Dudley sat on the couch. Catching sight of Harry, Vernon jerked his head toward the armchair in the corner. Seeing the nonverbal command, Harry hastened to obey, hoping to gain favor with the man.

It was a few seconds before Vernon started. Finally, he cleared his throat and began, "Boy, I have received a great honour from the higher powers at Grunnings; I have been sent on a business trip to Washington, D.C.," his large chest swelled with pride.

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes with difficulty. Vernon was the director of the local branch of Grunnings, a company that made drills. He was very prideful of his job, and never missed an opportunity to brag about it. It was a moment before the full meaning of that statement impacted on Harry.

"Wait, hang on, _Washington D.C._, as in the capital of the _United States_?" he spluttered. Vernon cast a nasty glare at him.

"Yes, that Washington. Now then, normally you would just stay with Mrs. Figg—"

"You mean I'm _not_?" Harry cut across quickly. Whenever the Durselys went _anywhere_, he was always left with their cat-loving neighbor, Mrs. Figg. Vernon shot him another glare.

"As I was _saying_, Mrs. Figg has, most unfortunately, taken rather ill. She has been hospitalized. You can't stay with her, and no one else will take you, and you _certainly_ are not staying in this house alone. So, I have no other option but to take you with us," he finished, distaste colouring his voice.

Harry's head snapped up quickly. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He _never_ went anywhere with the Durselys.

"I have taken the liberty of arranging a passport for you. The only thing left to do is get to get your picture taken. We are all ready to go; I have a normal suitcase for you," here he gestured to a worn out suitcase in the corner, "We will get our things in the car while you get everything you need. We will pick up your passport on the way to the airport. And boy," he added threateningly, "I don't want any _freakishness_ ruining this trip; you understand?"

Harry quickly nodded before grabbing the suitcase and running upstairs. He threw his schoolwork and some of his less ratty muggle clothes in. Scrawling a note for Hedwig to pick up when she came (he was fervently thankful that she was so smart ), he jammed his wand through his belt and ran back out to the car.

It seemed that this was going to be an interesting summer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or NCIS. And besides, one should always remember rule number 13—never, _ever _involve lawyers. Doing so will result in a Gibbs-slap. Enough said.

**Reviews**: Oh my gosh, I nearly forgot to ask for reviews! That would have been horrible, wouldn't it? I mean, _everyone_ asks for reviews! I can't _not_ go with the crowd!

…

Well, sarcastic moment over with, please review! No flames.

**Thanks**: To everyone who has added me/this story to their author/story alerts or fav. stories! And to everyone who reviewed the last chapter.

**Help**: If you could leave some ideas for some McNicknames and Ziva-doms I would be very grateful. I'd also like to know how I could make this story better and things I can work on (constructive criticism).

**Stuff**: Uh, well, this is Chapter 2

'_Obviously'_

And that was the sarcastic voice in my head.

'_Oh, and you're not crazy?'_

Shut up. Anyway, this chapter will primarily be NCIS. Since this takes place after the episode "Good Cop, Bad Cop", Ziva has already left Mossad and is an official Probie.

'_Hello! Hey, it echoes in here!'_

I thought I told you to shut up!

'_But I am you. That means that you need to stop talking as well.'_

You know what— *sigh* let's just forget it. On with the story!

Learning to Love

Chapter 2

Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo was bored. Very bored. And that was bad for Special Agent Timothy McGee, whose only wish was to finish the paperwork he had before their boss came in. A wish, which, unfortunately for him, didn't seem likely to happen anytime soon.

"Tony!" he growled in frustration as yet another wad of paper hit him in the head. Tony, whose gaze had quickly turned to the computer screen, looked up innocently.

"What's up, McGoo?" he asked sweetly.

"Could you leave me alone please? I've really got to get this done before Gibbs gets here," McGee half-begged, half-snapped.

"Whoa, cool it Timmy, you're the one who called _my_ name," Tony held up his hands in mock surrender, spinning around in his chair to face his annoyed coworker.

"DiNozzo—"

"You might want to stop adding gas to the flames, McGee, you will only make him worse," Ziva advised, not looking up from her work.

"Adding fuel to the fire, Ziva," Tony responded automatically without thinking. Ziva glared.

"Don't you have anything better to do than correct my English? Like paperwork, perhaps?" she grumbled.

"Why, as a matter of fact, I don't! Why, do you?" he grinned cheekily.

"Tony, I would recommend finding something quiet to do before you lose all capability to make noise. Or children," Ziva threatened.

"If I'm annoying you then you could just say so, Ziva! I mean, if you are irritated then making me unable to make noise is understandable, but making it so I can't have kids? That's kinda harsh. Or is it just that you want that particular ability of mine all to yourself?" he questioned slyly before a slightly muffled "Oomph" came from him as Gibbs walked in and slapped his head.

"Rule number twelve, DiNozzo," he said wryly, taking a sip from his ever-present cup of coffee. "Grab your gear; we've got a dead Petty Officer. Found in a hotel room by a British family who're here on business. Ziva, you're driving." Ziva smirked as Tony groaned.

Tony jumped out of the car the minute they screeched to a stop in the hotel parking lot. "You do realize that turns are supposed to be taken on four wheels, not two, right? How did you manage to get your American driver's license?" he questioned weakly, still rather pale from the intense ride.

McGee stumbled out of the car, his face an interesting color of green. Gibbs climbed out last, completely unfazed. "Quit your whining, DiNozzo, and get your butt up to that crime scene."

"Yes boss," Tony muttered as they climbed the steps leading up to the entrance. Once inside, Tony and Ziva walked up to the desk. "Hello ma'am, I'm Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, and this is my partner, Probationary Agent Ziva David," he began professionally, flashing his badge to the elderly woman standing behind the desk, "We're with NCIS. We received a call about a dead Naval Petty Officer who was found in one of your rooms?" The woman smiled.

"Why of course not, Jason, there's no one in my room! Now why don't you go get cleaned up and come help grandma make lunch, okay? Your friend can stay too," Tony and Ziva exchanged glances.

"Um, sorry ma'am, but I think you may have mistaken me for someone else. You see, my name is Anthony DiNozzo and I'm here about a possible murder—"

"Jason, where _do_ you get these ideas? Is it from one of those television shows your father lets you watch? I told that man that you were too young for those blasted crime shows; you're only nine for goodness sake! Now please, go wash up! I'll just get your friend settled in," she smiled kindly at Ziva. At that moment, Gibbs walked in, followed by McGee. The woman immediately turned a rebuking glare on the ex-marine, though he didn't notice it.

"DiNozzo, I thought I told you to get up to the crime scene!" he barked.

"Michael, I _told _you he was too young to watch those horrid crime dramas! Now you've got him _playing_ it!" she continued to glare at Gibbs. He stared at her in confusion. "Don't look at me like that, young man, you may be grown up, but I am still your mother!" Gibbs glanced over to Tony.

"Err, DiNozzo, what exactly—"

"Don't you dare play that game with me mister, or I will personally tan your hide, no matter how old you are!" she turned away from him and her gaze softened as it fell on McGee. "Oh, Simon, you came too! Please tell me your father hasn't been letting you watch those abhorrent shows as well!" she groaned. Then she suddenly brightened. "Well, your grandpa will be home soon and we can all sit down for a nice meal. I never did catch your friend's name, Jason." Before she could carry on, Ducky and Palmer walked in.

Catching sight of Gibbs, Ducky led the way over to the group of gob-smacked agents. "Ah, Jethro, there you are. I was beginning to get worried," he then noticed the woman, "Ah, is this the hotel manager?"

The woman seemed delighted. "David, there you are! It seems your son decided to bring the whole family over so we could have lunch together," she made her way around the counter to kiss Ducky's cheek.

Blushing, Ducky looked over to Gibbs for help. The other man simply shook his head, obviously at a loss as to what to say. Suddenly a door behind the desk opened, revealing a man with dark brown hair.

Shooting an odd look at the woman, he turned and addressed Gibbs. "Hello, are you NCIS?" he asked, moving forward to shake hands.

Gibbs nodded before tilting his head over to the woman. "Who exactly—?"

"I thought she was with you," he said. "I really have no idea. Forgive me, my name's John Morris, I'm the hotel manager. You are Agent Gibbs?"

"Yeah, that's me. Can you show us to the body?" Gibbs asked.

"Sure thing," replied Morris, and with that they left. Or tried to, anyway.

The woman's attention was once again turned on Tony. "Jason, don't you _dare_ run off again. You are staying at grandma's house until your father gets back with Simon from the doctor; I know how much you hate it there. But that means that you have to do as I say, understand? Now go wash up so you can eat lunch, you look like your father doesn't feed you," she ranted as though Tony (or in her mind, "Jason") were the only one there.

Tony looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, but I—" he began, trying to think of a way to convince her that he was _not_ her nine-year-old grandson.

The old woman wasn't having any of it; she marched forward and grabbed Tony by the ear and began pulling him away. "That's it young man; if you aren't old enough to do as you're told, then you're certainly not old enough to wash up by yourself. I will help you with your bath tonight as well."

Tony looked pleadingly over to his snickering coworkers, then to his boss. Gibbs merely smirked. "What's the matter, DiNozzo? Can't take on an old woman?" he asked conversationally. The Senior Field Agent scowled.

"I don't want to hurt her!" he snapped. Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"Sure," he said, drawing out the single syllable. He walked over to the woman and smiled charmingly. "Hey mom, I'm here to pick up Jason." The woman looked at him and smiled.

"Michael! You're back already, I didn't expect you until later," she said.

"Ah, yes, well the doctor was very quick. He said that Simon was perfectly healthy," Gibbs stated, remembering why she said she had been watching "Jason" in the first place.

"Excellent. Well," she began, jerking Tony forward by his ear, "Jason got into a bit of trouble just now. He just wasn't listening to me," she explained.

Gibbs frowned. He really was a good actor. It probably helped that his fatherly instincts hadn't dulled and he could think of how he would react if he were to hear the same thing about Kelly. "Hmm, I'll have a talk with him about that when we get home. Say goodbye to your grandmother, Jason," he said, gesturing for Tony to play along when DiNozzo gave him a dark look.

"Bye," he muttered reluctantly. He stiffened when the odd woman hugged him.

"I'll see you soon," she replied as she kissed him on the top of the head. Tony shot a glare at his laughing coworkers. Gibbs placed a hand on his shoulder and led him toward the others. When he was released, Tony put as much distance between himself and the woman as was possible, rubbing his ear as he did so.

"Where's the body," he grumbled to Morris, who was trying to hide his smirk.

"Right this way," replied the manager. He turned and headed to the stairs, figuring that they all wouldn't fit in the elevator. Tony turned on his heel and followed, the others not far behind.

"Don't worry, Anthony," Ducky said. "She probably had some sort of mental illness, the poor woman. Most likely actually believed that you were her grandson."

"And that's supposed to help, how?" Tony asked, annoyed by the laughter that was currently directed at him.

"Come now Jason, is that any way to talk to your grandfather?" teased Ziva. Tony was saved by Morris stopping outside a room.

"Well, this is it. The family's inside, they'll be able to tell you more," he said. McGee frowned at him.

"You left them in there with the body?" he asked.

"Oh, no, the body's in the bathroom. I wouldn't do anything like that," replied Morris. "Here's the keycard. Good luck, by the way, they're not all that pleasant. Well, except for the boy with black hair; he's alright, just kinda quiet." With that he turned and left, leaving the team alone.

Tony sighed; this definently was an interesting start to the summer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I do not, nor have I ever, nor do I ever expect to, own Harry Potter or NCIS.

**Thanks**: To everyone who reviewed the past two chapters! You inspired me to write more!

**Other Stuff**: And now, the moment we've all been waiting for, Harry Potter and NCIS meet! Got some Gibbs/Harry interaction in this one. Looking forward to some Gibbs/Dursely interaction, though not really much till a bit later. *laughs evilly* Poor Durselys, I almost feel sorry for them. Key word being "almost". Too bad Gibbs isn't a wizard, or this would be even more entertaining…

'_You're sadistic today.'_

And you're as annoying as always.

'_These stories would be nothing without me!'_

…

'…'

Onward!

**Learning to Love**

**Chapter 3**

_**Previously:**_

"_Harry quickly nodded before grabbing the suitcase and running upstairs. He threw his schoolwork and some of his less ratty muggle clothes in. Scrawling a note for Hedwig to pick up when she came (he was fervently thankful that she was so smart), he jammed his wand through his belt and ran back out to the car._

_It seemed that this was going to be an interesting summer."_

_"'Oh, no, the body's in the bathroom. I wouldn't do anything like that,' replied Morris. 'Here's the keycard. Good luck, by the way, they're not all that pleasant. Well, except for the boy with black hair; he's alright, just kinda quiet.' With that he turned and left, leaving the team alone._

_Tony sighed; this definently was an interesting start to the summer."_

Harry rubbed his eyes as he leaned against the windowsill in their hotel room. He was thoroughly exhausted. His prediction of an interesting summer was so far coming true, but not in a very good way.

First, when they had gone to pick up his passport, the woman taking his picture wouldn't stop fawning over him. Not only was he uncomfortable with the attention, but she wouldn't even give Dudley the time of day. This upset his uncle who, under the pretense of laying a fatherly hand on his shoulder, left him with a rather large bruise. Of course, he _was_ used to that kind of treatment from his uncle…

Then, when they were getting on the plane, Harry was told that he had to sit next to his cousin. This wouldn't have been a problem, except for the fact that Dudley had forced him to take the window seat. He wasn't afraid of heights (he was, after all, the youngest Seeker in a century on his house Quidditch team), but he was rather claustrophobic after being literally thrown into a cupboard after beatings. Being stuck between Dudley (who was extremely large) and the wall of the plane hadn't exactly made it the most enjoyable experience in the world, and the jet lag only made it worse.

After waiting _forever_ to get all of their luggage and get a taxi to the hotel room, the Durselys had made Harry carry the baggage up to the room. And because there was no room in the elevator after Dudley and Vernon had squeezed in beside Petunia, Harry had to take the stairs. Had he mentioned that he _really_ hated jet lag?

And now, after all of that, he had somehow gotten involved in a _murder_ investigation. Wasn't his life screwed up enough? He had just walked in to use the loo and he ended up finding a _body_ in the bathtub. And not just any body; no, it had to be the body of someone in the U.S. military. Once the agents who were going to be handling the case left, he was going to be in _so_ much trouble with his uncle.

At that moment, the door opened. Vernon, who had been lounging on the bed with Petunia, jumped up as a man with silver hair lead the way in. Petunia sat up with her back as straight as a board, eyeing the agents. Harry did his best to make himself unnoticeable and Dudley, of course, had fallen asleep in an armchair.

"Ah, you must be, uh, NCIS, I believe? Yes, yes, the manager said that you had been contacted," he began with very fake politeness, or at least from Harry's point of view. The silver-haired man apparently agreed as he raised an eyebrow in a nearly Snape-like manner.

"Yeah, that's us. I'm Special Agent Gibbs and this is my team," he gestured vaguely around at the people who had followed him in. "So, which one of you found the body?"

Vernon seemed taken aback by his abruptness. "Err, well, that would be my—ah, my n-nephew," he spoke the word "nephew" as though it caused him physical pain. He jerked his head over to Harry, who tried to sink into the shadows as Gibbs looked over to him.

"Well then, I'll just need to talk to him while my agents examine the crime scene for any evidence. Then we'll get your statements and go. You haven't touched anything in there, have you?" he asked.

"Touched—of course we bloody well haven't touched anything in there! _There's a dead body in the tub!_" he half-shouted, looking at Gibbs as though he were insane.

"You'd be surprised at how often it happens," the agent said calmly before motioning for the team to start their work. "You want to be there when I talk to your nephew?" he asked.

"He can handle himself," Vernon said dismissively, though Gibbs wasn't an agent for nothing; he didn't miss the threatening look Vernon sent the boy as he spoke.

"Alright then," he said, and beckoned for the child to follow him. He did so reluctantly, pushing off the windowsill in a way only a teenager could.

Gibbs led the way into the adjacent bedroom. He motioned for Harry to sit down on one of the twin beds, dragging the desk chair over for himself. Once they were both seated he was silent for a moment, studying the boy. He had noticed how the child had carefully skirted around his uncle on the way into the room, and how good he had been at keeping the attention away from himself. He finally spoke.

"So, I didn't catch your name," he said conversationally. The boy looked surprised for a split second before his face turned impassive.

"Harry Potter, sir," he responded quietly.

"Well then, Harry, you can drop the sir," he said, noting how thin the child looked and how large and worn out his clothes were. "As I said, I just need to ask you a few questions. How old are you?" he continued.

"Thirteen si—uh, Agent Gibbs," he corrected himself, "but I'll be fourteen in July. If you don't mind me asking, how is this going to help your investigation?"

"It's just Gibbs, Harry. And I'm sure it'll help a bit," Gibbs smiled, though on the inside he was fuming. He would have guessed that Harry was at most eleven or twelve, judging by his size, and the combination of that, his almost fervent politeness, and his ragged clothes pointed to two things in Gibbs's mind, and poverty didn't seem likely, judging by his overall behavior.

"Can you tell me how you came across the body?" he asked gently, knowing how disturbing it was to see death first hand, especially for a child. Harry shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

"I hadn't used the toilet since we left England and I really needed to go. When I walked in there was something off about the way the shower curtains hung so I pulled them back and the body was there," he said, not meeting the agent's eyes.

"You hadn't used the bathroom since you left?" Gibbs asked, surprised. It had to have been quite a while since they actually left, due to the time differences.

"I didn't like the plane very much and I was really tired after we landed," he mumbled, eyes still avoiding Gibbs. He really didn't like where Gibbs was going with his questions. They were hitting much too close to the treatment he received from the Durselys for his liking.

"Scared of heights?" Gibbs inquired, though not mockingly

"Claustrophobic," Harry replied dully. He really didn't want to go into this. Gibbs looked at him thoughtfully.

"D'you know why?" he pressed. Harry looked up, startled. It was almost as though the man suspected something.

"No idea," he responded warily. Gibbs could've sworn loudly, he had put the boy on the defensive. Maybe he could find a way to get the family back in for questioning so he could talk more with him…

"Alright, well I think I've got everything I need. I'll call you back if I think you could help with something," he said, standing up and holding out his hand. Harry hesitantly took it, and as he did his shirt slipped. The large neck hole slid down over his thin shoulder to reveal a large, hand-shaped bruise.

"Harry, what's that?" he asked with forced calm.

Harry looked at the place Gibbs was staring at in confusion, which quickly turned to horror.

"N-nothing," he stuttered. The ex-marine once again did his Snape impression.

"While I would really prefer it if you didn't lie to me, you could at least try to do a good job at it," he said, trying to keep his anger at the Durselys hidden and not doing a very good job. Before he could continue, the door opened to reveal Jimmy Palmer. Gibbs growled in frustration.

"Rule number 22, Palmer," he said, keeping his voice steady for Harry's sake. The boy had begun to look scared the moment Gibbs's temper had begun to rise. Palmer looked at him in confusion.

"But you're not in—" he began.

"That rule applies whenever I'm talking to someone about the case, Palmer, not just in interrogation," he growled. "What's so important?"

"Dr. Mallard's done everything he can here and we're loading the body now. He said that the time of death was just a few hours before it was found," Palmer said quickly, not wanting to anger Gibbs more. The man sighed.

"Do we got a cause of death?" he asked.

"Well, there were some stab wounds directly to the heart," Palmer stated.

"So he was stabbed."

"Actually, _she_ wasn't. Those wounds were caused post-mortem. However, there was also some bruising around the neck," the assistant continued.

"So she was strangled," Gibbs concluded.

"No. The bruising was post-mortem as well," Palmer continued nervously.

"Dammit, Palmer, just tell me what killed her!" Gibbs finally snapped. Harry drew away slightly.

"Dr. Mallard thinks that she was poisoned; we'll have to wait for Abby to run the tox screen."

"Couldn't you have just told me that in the first place?" Gibbs asked, exasperated. Palmer looked sheepish.

"Sorry Agent Gibbs," he said. Gibbs sighed.

"Just don't do it again; I've got enough to worry about right now. Could you tell Ducky to be ready for a live patient when we get back?"

Palmer looked surprised; glancing around the room his gaze fell for the first time on Harry. Taking in the sight of the bruise on his shoulder, Palmer for once held his tongue.

"Sure thing," he said as casually as he could before turning and leaving.

Gibbs shook his head as he watched the door close behind the assistant ME. Turning back to Harry, he put on a reassuring smile.

"Change of plans—I need you to stay here for a bit, then I'll be right back. Just don't leave the room, got it?" Harry nodded and sat back down, still looking slightly uneasy.

Leaving the boy sitting there, Gibbs carefully closed the door. As he entered the room where the Durselys were giving their statements, he beckoned for his team to follow him into the bathroom, ignoring the incessant questions coming from the obnoxious man. After closing the bathroom door, Tony turned to his boss in confusion.

"We were almost done in there! Ducky's already removed the body and we've collected all the evidence we can from here, and I _really_ don't want to spend more time around those people than absolutely necessary," he whined. Gibbs ignored him.

"We need to get them into interrogation," the ex-marine said bluntly. Ziva frowned.

"But they did nothing. We can't just bring them in for being horrible people," she said, growing even more confused when Gibbs smirked.

"Oh, we won't be 'bringing them in'. We're just gonna give them a nice little tour for being so cooperative during the investigation," he said, causing his agents to look at him oddly.

"They were horrible!" Tony burst out. Gibbs rolled his eyes and explained what he had seen on Harry.

"So I just need you guys to keep the Durselys busy while I take Harry to be examined by Ducky; when we have all the evidence we need, I'll call you and you can take them to interrogation," he finished. The team simply stood there, shocked. Finally, McGee found his voice.

"How're we gonna justify—" he stopped as Tony cut him off.

"Justify it to who, Vance? He hates child abuse as much as we do, he'll back us! Those people are hurting him, McGee; we can't just let them get away with it because our method doesn't necessarily follow the law!" the Senior Field Agent snapped vehemently. McGee was taken aback.

"I was just going to ask how we were going to justify keeping Harry separate from the Durselys during the tour so that Ducky could take a look at him," he explained, shocked by Tony's violent reaction. DiNozzo blushed.

"Oh. Sorry," he mumbled, forgetting that he was supposed to annoy McGee at all costs. Ziva watched him speculatively.

"We'll just say that the kids get a different tour that's more tailored to children," Gibbs said thoughtfully. "Then we can separate them; I don't think Harry will mind being away from his 'family', and that other boy didn't look very bright."

Tony shuddered, seeming to return to his usual self. "Trust me, he wasn't boss," he assured. When Dudley had finally woken up he had been far from pleasant, just like his father. Petunia had been doting on him nearly the whole time they were there; it had been sickening to watch.

This was turning into way more than he had expected.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: I dnot own Hrary Pteotr or NICS.

**Thanks**: To all of my reviewers/followers! Also, a special thanks to mist shadow for the idea for part of this chapter. And kamelia, I definently wasn't expecting that kind of dedication when I posted this. Thank you.

**Review**: Please? Pretty please? With sugar on top?

**Other Stuff**: And now we're on Chapter 4.

'_Thank you Captain Obvious'_

Not you again…oh yeah, "yeled" supposedly means _son_ or _male child_ in Hebrew.

**Apology**: Okay, I know that I already told you that my updates would be irregular, but I do feel kind of guilty about not updating since Tuesday, especially with all of the amazing feedback I've been getting.

**Help?**: Normally, I'm quite knowledgeable about the ins and outs of the HP world. However, I would appreciate it greatly if anyone could give a list of Death Eaters who weren't in Azkaban or incapacitated (or currently trying to brown nose the Dark Lord) at the time this story is taking place. Also, am I supposed to capitalize the words "dark lord" when I'm not specifically referring to Lord Voldemort? And what would happen someone (let's say from England) was visiting another country (maybe America) and the authorities of that country found evidence that those persons (who had had British citizenship) had committed a crime (child abuse, perhaps)? Would they be extradited (deported)? Or would it be possible for them to be tried by the Americans on American soil? And, if one wanted to get American citizenship and guardianship of the abused child, how would one go about it? If you can't figure out what I'm talking about, well…

**Learning to Love**

**Chapter 4**

Gibbs sighed as they finally made it into NCIS. The Dursley family was proving to be even worse than he had originally gathered from his team's (mainly Tony's) complaints.

First he had had to convince Vernon to bring his family in for the tour. Not that that in itself had been particularly hard, as Vernon was so prideful, but when it involved being nice to Harry it got a bit difficult. He had finally convinced Vernon that they needed to run some tests on the boy's blood (thank goodness these people were so stupid).

Then he had ridden in the Dursley's new rental (which had been brought to the hotel by the rental company while they were doing the investigation; suffice it to say that the workers who had brought it had been a bit freaked out). He had sat in the front passenger's seat while Vernon drove, feeling bad about leaving Harry (and, to a lesser extent, Petunia, as it had been her own fault) stuck in the back beside the unbelievably large Dudley. Vernon had boasted loudly about his job the whole way and Gibbs had mentally cursed the necessity of increasing his ego even more by bringing him on the stupid "tour".

'_Well'_, he thought in satisfaction, '_soon we'll have the evidence we'll need to bring him and his family down a few notches.'_

After getting the Dursleys and Harry the required visitor's passes, Gibbs turned to them. "Well, I'll take Harry here down to autopsy to get h blood drawn. Ziva and McGee will show you around," turning, he addressed Tony, "DiNozzo, why don't you go inform Abby of the _current situation_."

Tony gave a jerky nod and stalked off. Gibbs sighed. DiNozzo had been acting strange ever since he had learned of the Dursley's abusive behavior, and Gibbs was sure that it was in response to his own screwy childhood. Though he hated that DiNozzo, _his_ senior agent, had been treated that way, he hoped that Tony and Harry might be able to help each other. Of course, that was the main reason he wanted Tony separated from the Dursleys. While his other agents weren't happy at all with the family, he clung desperately to the hope that they, at least, would be able to hold their tempers. Though, glancing at the other two, he might have to rethink that.

McGee seemed to be faring the best. He had a distinct air of rage around him, but the Dursleys fortunately (and predictably) didn't pick it up, and the agent was rarely ever one to act on his temper. Ziva, on the other hand, could pose a problem. She was furious, casting disgusted looks at the animal-like family. He could guess that her attitude had something to do with her father's attitude toward her, and he made a split-second decision.

"Ziva, why don't you go tell Director Vance how the investigation's going before you join me," he suggested. Maybe a female presence would calm Harry. She nodded stiffly, turning on her heal and leaving. The ex-marine shook his head and whispered to McGee. "Stall them, okay? We'll do this as quickly as possible." Instead of responding, McGee turned to the Dursleys.

"Right this way," he said in a pseudo-happy voice. When the Dursleys were finally out of sight, Gibbs looked down at Harry.

"Right this way," he imitated McGee, gesturing widely for Harry to follow. He was rewarded with a small chuckle from the boy.

They didn't speak much on the way down to autopsy, which suited them both perfectly. Neither was particularly fond of small-talk, and Harry was rather nervous. He could tell that something was going on, and he had a horrible feeling that it had something to do with the bruise Gibbs had seen. He cursed himself for allowing his shirt to slip, and knew that he would pay dearly for his moment of carelessness.

Gibbs held open the door for Harry. He walked in, full of trepidation, jumping as a voice called out to them.

"Ah, Jethro, this must be our young patient. Come in, come it," came from an elderly man who was standing beside some metal tables. Harry looked around. The body of the Petty Officer wasn't there.

The man seemed to notice his action. "Ah, I put our friend away for our little meeting. Harry, correct?" he said, holding his hand out for the boy to shake. Harry nodded and took it shyly, being careful not to let his shirt slip again.

Gibbs interrupted. "Yeah Duck, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Dr. Donald Mallard, our Medical Examiner here at NCIS. You can call him Ducky though, most do."

Ducky smiled. "Indeed. Now then, young man, why don't you climb up on this table for me," he watched as Harry did so. "Excellent. Mr. Palmer needed to go take care of his mother, I'm afraid. She's ill," he added to Gibbs. "Now then, you've had a shot before, correct?" he turned back to Harry. The boy nodded. "Good. So, this will be a bit like getting a shot, only I will be drawing some blood to send back to our forensics specialist, Abigail Scuito," he continued, preparing the needle.

As Ducky drew his blood, Harry looked determinedly in the other direction. It wasn't that he was _afraid_, per se; he had been stabbed with plenty of things that were much larger than a needle. He just didn't want to watch someone stick him with a sharp pointy object while telling him they were trying to help him. At least the man didn't tell him what he was doing, as so many doctors had done when Harry was getting the shots he had required for primary school. No, Ducky simply told a story about the time one of his patients had been so frightened of the needle that they had hyperventilated before passing out, cracking their head open on the desk that had been next to their bed.

"All done," Ducky exclaimed, removing the needle and taping a cotton ball over the draw site. As Harry glanced up from it, Ducky was already preparing a swab. "Open up," he ordered, and Harry obeyed, cringing at the feeling of the cotton in his mouth.

The mood in the room tensed as Ducky labeled the samples. Harry shifted around on the cool, hard metal and Gibbs looked anywhere but at him, knowing what was going to happen next.

"Harry," the boy's eyes snapped up as Ducky called his name after sending off the samples. The man spoke in a soothing voice, as though expecting Harry to react badly to what he was going to say. This only put the young wizard even more on edge. "I need you to remove your shirt."

Harry's eyes widened. He tried to control his breathing. "H-how is that going to help solve the c-case?" he asked, stumbling over his words. A small part of his mind was reminded of Quirrel and he pushed back the thought.

"Harry, you're smarter than that. You know what I saw, and you must know that I'm not going to let it go that easily. We just want to help you Harry," Gibbs said, placing a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder and leaning down slightly so he could look the child in the eye. The boy flinched a bit but didn't make any move to shake off the hand, which Gibbs took as a good sign.

"You—I don't need—" Harry stuttered, not sure what to say to convince them that he was fine. Gibbs' face began to swim out of focus. His chest was on fire, and there were dark edges closing in on his vision. He needed air, but he couldn't take any in. He was hardly even aware of the strong arms that closed around him, or the fact that it was no longer the cold metal that was below him.

"Shh, it's okay, it's fine," a calming voice broke through his panic. Someone was rubbing his back, and his face was hidden in something warm. It smelled like coffee and sawdust. His breathing slowed.

The voice spoke again. "Hey, Duck, don't bother with the sedative. I think he's calming down."

As Harry remembered where he was and realized whose lap he must be sitting on, he blushed and tried to pull away. The arms allowed him to turn and look around a bit, but Gibbs refused to let him get down. "Hey," he said quietly, "don't be embarrassed. It's okay." Harry stopped struggling and frowned. The only other person who he could remember ever directing that fatherly tone at him was Sirius. In fact, this whole situation was foreign to him. No matter how far back he remembered, he couldn't think of anyone holding him like that, the strong arms firm but not too tight.

Gibbs remembered holding Kelly like this sometimes, like after she had had a nightmare or something. The thought of his daughter caused his arms to tighten around Harry, but the boy didn't seem to mind. It had been a long time since he had comforted someone like this, and it felt good. Slightly painful, but still good.

While boy and man were lost in thought, the door banged open, causing Harry to jump and Gibbs to look up from the child's head. The ex-marine glared at the ex-assassin, who cringed back. Studying the pair, she shot an apologetic look at them before smiling gently down at Harry.

"Hello Harry," she said. "I'm Probationary Agent Ziva David." He tried to smile back, but the embarrassment at his situation was creeping up his face once more. To her credit, Ziva made no comment about his position. "So, what's next in the examination?" she asked. Ducky cleared his throat and stepped forward, successfully removing the spotlight from Harry.

"Well, I've already drawn blood and gotten a saliva sample. I just need to examine Harry and get some X-rays. But first I need him to take off his shirt," he said, peering over at the boy.

Forgetting his embarrassment at being treated like a child, Harry turned and buried his face in Gibbs's chest. Ziva walked over and sat down primly next to her boss, placing a hand on Harry's back.

"What is troubling you, yeled?" she questioned softly. "Do you not wish to remove your shirt?"

Harry shook his head. "Don't want…scars…"

"You have scars, little one? I do as well," she said. Gibbs looked at her in amazement.

"But—I'm a freak," he said. Gibbs's arms tightened around him again.

Ziva frowned. "Your scars do not make you a freak," she said. "They show that you have survived—perhaps horrible things caused them, but you are still alive. That is all that matters."

Harry looked up at her, his vivid green eyes swimming with unshed tears. His hands moved as though to pull off his shirt, and Gibbs loosened his grip to allow movement. Ziva nodded in encouragement. Slowly but surely, the article of clothing made it off his body. The adults had to stop themselves from growling at what they saw.

His chest was, indeed, littered with scars and fading bruises. Ducky wrote a few things down before picking up a camera and turning back to Harry. A resigned look came over Harry's face.

"Do I have to?" he asked quietly. Ducky nodded grimly.

"I'm afraid so, my boy. Jethro, I need you to set him down. Harry, you can stand," he ordered, being careful to keep his voice even while on the inside he was fuming.

Gibbs complied, ignoring the empty feeling that came when Harry left his arms. '_Just like the last time I let go of Kelly,' _he thought with a pang. Pushing away the depressing thought, he turned his attention back to Harry.

After the photos and X-rays were taken, Ziva was telling Harry stories about her work at NCIS and Gibbs turned to Ducky. The Scotsman shook his head ever so slightly and gave a miniscule nod in Harry's direction. Gibbs nodded back and cleared his throat. Harry and Ziva looked up at him.

"Ziva, why don't you take Harry out for some food," he said, passing her some money. When Harry began to open his mouth in protest, Gibbs shook his head. "No buts," he ordered. "You deserve this." Seeing Gibbs's stare, Harry closed his mouth and reluctantly nodded.

Once Ziva and Harry were gone, Ducky immediately began talking. "Jethro, it's horrible! He has had a couple of large breaks and several miniscule fractures, very few of which received proper medical attention.

"One interesting thing I did find was this," he said, picking up two of the X-rays, both of Harry's arms. "This is his left arm. At first glance it seems to have been hurt far more than the right."

Gibbs shrugged. "So, they wanted him to be able to use his dominant hand for chores and stuff," he said, trying to hold back his anger. "Look Ducky, with the Dursleys I don't really care about a psychological profile. I just want them in jail."

Ducky looked at him. "Oh, no no, that's not what I meant. As I said, at first glance that's what it appears like. However, the bone in his right arm is actually quite a bit younger than all of the other bones in his body. While they are still as strong as a near-fourteen-year-old's bones should be, they are only approximately one, going on two years old."

Gibbs looked at him in surprise. "How is that possible?" he demanded.

"I have no idea."

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**A/N: Okay, I promise that Abby will be in the next chapter! And almost certainly the Dursley's interrogation. But I really need the answers to the questions at the beginning of the chapter first, so please help me!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: If you haven't gotten it by now, I don't own Harry Potter or NCIS.

**Thanks**: Thanks to all of my reviewers and followers. Uh, thanks **griffindorlioness81088 **the real translation. Lesson: don't trust the internet ;) lol, the translations are usually off, so thanks to all of you for the help with the legal, medical, and grammatical problems I was having. And that Death Eater issue…

Thanks to **tasty technology** for bugging me at school to put up new chapters. I did promise, didn't I?

And to **Alayna82**, let's just call it Ducky magic, cuz I have no idea.

**Other Stuff**: I'm amazed at how well this is doing…I really have nothing else to say right now.

'_That's a first'_

Go away…oh yeah, as for the rules and numbers, I just googled them. I've also got an app on my ipod, but I didn't get it until after I wrote whatever chapter I used rule 22 in.

**A Warning**: Okay, so I told you that there would be child abuse. Knowing that, you still continued to read. Duh. But you didn't expect rape. There will be none. However, there is a part in this chapter that may make you think that I'm writing that Vernon raped Harry. This is not so, so if you're sensitive to that kind of thing, don't worry. That's not what's happening, it just might sound like that. Trust me, the story will make much more sense than I am right now. Uh, sorry if it seems like a cover up (what happens in the story) but I was having issues with the legal stuff and it was the easiest thing I could find.

**Opinions?**: You guys tell me what you think: should this be a manipulative Dumbledore story or not? Should he simply be misguided? I'm kinda on the fence about Ron and Hermione right now; I'm not sure if they should be good, supportive friends or complete jerks. Also, there's the issue with Sirius. I'm not sure about how I'll deal with two father figures competing for Harry's attention. I mean, Sirius is on the run from the law, but he knew Harry's parents. Gibbs is in a better position legally, he has a stable job and experience as a father, but he's all the way in America. I'm not sure if there should be tension between them or not, or how I'll handle a meeting between them. So, I need inspiration! Just leave your thoughts in the reviews (I'm not gonna bother with a poll). Thanks!

**Review**: Please review! No flames, but constructive criticism is appreciated.

Learning to Love

Chapter 5

Gibbs made his way to Abby's lab with a dull ache in his head. Tony had just called to tell him to get there ASAP because they had something big, and to say that he had tried to get records on Harry. There were none. Well, nothing useful anyway. There were only some scant medical and school records that all ended shortly before the boy had reached the age of eleven. Add the odd arm and whatever Abby had found and the child was simply shrouded in mystery.

He stopped shortly to get Abby a Caf-Pow, and was promptly bowled over by the hyperactive goth when he entered the lab. He handed her the drink and raised his eyebrow, listening to her incessant chatter.

"Gibbs, Ducky just emailed me the pictures! It's so horrible! When do I get to meet him? What's he like? Tony said he's really quiet, but I'm sure he talked to you! I mean, what kid _doesn't_ like you? I—" Gibbs held a finger up to her lips.

"You'll meet him soon. He's out with Ziva getting some food, God knows he needs it. Where's DiNozzo?" he asked.

"Oh! He went to go see Ducky, he must've taken the stairs. He was going to go ask exactly _how_ bad it was. I think this is really bugging him," she finished quietly. She hated seeing the man she viewed as a brother so depressed. Gibbs looked at her for a few moments.

"I'll try to talk to him," he promised. Abby perked up. "So, what d'you got Abbs?" he asked, returning to his usual brisk manner.

"On Harry or the case?" she asked. His eyebrow went up again.

"Which do you think," he drawled. She grinned briefly.

"Harry then," she bustled over to the computer. Hitting a few buttons, she turned back to Gibbs as an image appeared on the screen, as though she expected him to understand _exactly_ what it meant.

"You can start at any time," he said dryly.

"Right. Well, Harry's suffering from malnutrition, which you probably could have guessed. It's a good thing Ziva knows what kinds of food to get him," she paused and Gibbs nodded his understanding. "He's also anemic, which is expected. However, I did find something _extremely_ odd in his blood," her eyes were shining in excitement, and Gibbs knew that this was the part she had been so eager to tell him. She hit another button on the computer.

"You see, it's not just blood in his blood," she said.

"Pardon?"

"I _mean_ he's got two foreign substances in his blood," she was practically bouncing.

"D'you got them identified?" Gibbs questioned. Her face fell slightly.

"No," seeing the tell-tale signs of frustration creeping onto her boss's face, Abby hurriedly continued. "But I've got something close. One of the substances is similar to snake venom. Actually, I'm almost completely sure that that's what it is."

Gibbs stared. "Almost?"

"Ninety-nine point nine percent sure," she added hastily, not wanting to frustrate Gibbs any more than was necessary.

"Any idea what snake it's from?"

She sighed. "No. That's why I'm not completely sure. I've run it against all known venom, both from snakes and not, and there aren't _any_ matches. It's so annoying!"

Gibbs began to massage her shoulders. "What about the other substance?" he asked in a soothing voice. She sighed again.

"Even more confusing than the first, but I've got an idea on what it is," she said, relaxing into his ministrations. Sensing him about to speak, she quickly continued. "I think it's _tears_."

Gibbs stopped massaging for a moment. "_Tears_?" he asked incredulously. She nodded sullenly as he removed his hands from her shoulders and turned her so he could look at her face.

"Yeah, but they're not _normal_ tears," she said, holding back laughter as a confused look drew itself over Gibbs's face.

"How exactly can tears be _abnormal_?"

"Well, they don't _look_ like normal tears. There's just something…_different_ about them, and I can't put my finger on it. All I know is that they've reacted with the venom somehow. Almost like an antidote," she finished thoughtfully, almost to herself.

"So basically you need to find some sort of venom that can be cured using really weird tears," he summed up skeptically.

"Pretty much," she smiled cheekily. Gibbs ran a hand through his hair.

"This kid…" he trailed off. Abby nodded her understanding.

"Yeah, Ducky told us about the arm. And I was here when Tony got his files. It's all just so _odd_," she frowned. "I don't believe that anyone could put a kid through that, though."

"I know, Abbs. I know."

**. . .**

'_Ring, ring, ring!'_ Gibbs's phone went off. Flipping the switch on the elevator, he answered it.

"Gibbs."

"Gibbs, I found something new," came Ziva's voice.

"Yeah?" he questioned, dread filling his stomach. Ziva wouldn't be calling about the case, not now. No, whatever it was had to do with Harry.

"Did Ducky have Harry remove his pants before I got there?" she asked.

"No, why?" he asked in apprehension. Surely she couldn't mean that—

"Harry tripped and his pant leg went up. There were bruises," she informed him grimly.

Gibbs was shocked. He knew it was bad, but— "Ziva, you don't mean—"

"No!" she snapped hastily. "I mean, that's what I thought at first as well, but Harry assured me that it wasn't so. He really is quick on the put-down."

"'Uptake' Ziva," Gibbs immediately corrected her. "Did he tell you what _did _happen?"

"After a bit of persuasion—no _not_ the 'assassin kind' as Tony calls it—he finally told me. Yes, I got it all written down, yes it _did_ happen after they had left the airport, and _yes,_ you are that predictable," Ziva recited as though from memory. Gibbs rolled his eyes in the dim light, leaning up against the elevator wall.

"So?" he asked, knowing he didn't need to elaborate. Obviously his team knew him _way_ too well.

"Apparently Vernon got angry that Harry had found the body and held him by the legs and held him upside-down and shook him. When he was finished he dropped Harry on the floor. He just dropped him!" Gibbs was sincerely glad that he wasn't Vernon Dursley, because he knew that the man was in for a slow, torturous death if Ziva _ever_ got her hands on him. Of course, the man wouldn't have it any better if _he_ got him either.

"How's Harry?" he asked with forced calm. When he got a hold of that man…

"He's fine, just a bit shaken up. Shall I take him to see Abby when we get back? He's still eating."

"Yeah. I think that it's about time for me to talk to the Dursleys." The call ended with a snap.

**. . .**

McGee was completely and utterly annoyed. He couldn't _believe_ how full of themselves these people could be. They were _horrible_. He hoped that Gibbs would call soon.

'_Ring, ring, ring'_ came the sound of his phone. Checking the caller ID he saw it was Gibbs.

'_Speak of the devil and the devil will appear, _think_ of him and he will call,'_ he thought dryly. '_Obviously the same rules apply to Gibbs. But I'd much rather make the devil angry.'_ He held a finger up to the Durselys with a fake-polite "excuse me, it's my boss and I need to take this", mentally cringing as Vernon said loudly: "Now there's a man who understands the importance of his work!"

"McGee," he answered, stepping away from the Durselys.

"McGee, are the Durselys still with you?" came Gibbs's voice. McGee sighed.

"Yeah, they are boss. Please tell me that this'll be over soon," he begged. He heard his boss chuckle.

"Don't worry McGee, I want to talk to them now. In interrogation," he added, a sadistic gleefulness hidden in his voice. McGee had to stop himself from shuddering.

"Which one do you want?" he asked, almost feeling sorry for the family. Gibbs could be as bad as Ziva, if not worse; especially if an abused child was involved. Of course, all of the near-pity disappeared at that thought and a sort of sick anticipation rose up in him. He didn't know how bad the abuse was, but he was sure he wouldn't like it when he found out.

Gibbs seemed to deliberate for a moment before answering. "Vernon," he replied decisively. "Might as well take the head of the family first, but I think that it's the female who has guardianship of Harry," he seemed to disgusted to even say her name, "Lily, Harry's mom, was her sister."

"Wait, you think?"

"The records weren't very complete. Didn't even say _how_ his parents died. Now get them to interrogation, there'll be backup waiting there to take the other two away."

"Sure thing boss," McGee said and Gibbs ended the call. He returned to the Durselys.

"Alright, I've just got one more thing to show you, then Gibbs needs me back on the case," he said, not allowing his weariness to seep into his voice.

"Of course, my good man!" Vernon said jovially. "Can't keep you away from your work for too long. Why, if I ever had an employee who slacked off…"

McGee tuned out the obnoxious man as he led them to the hallway outside of interrogation. As Gibbs had said, there were some agents there ready to help.

"What the—" Vernon began before McGee cut him off.

"Vernon Dursley, you are under arrest for the assault of a minor on American soil. As you are a British citizen, you will likely be deported and all evidence that is collected against you will be given to the British authorities," McGee said, cuffing the large man and steering him into the interrogation room. Dudley and Petunia were screaming as Vernon tried to bluster his way out.

"Where are you taking me?" he demanded. McGee rolled his eyes.

"My boss wants to have a word with you," he said.

"Aha! So you're bringing me in for questioning, are you?" Vernon sneered. "Well I'm not talking!"

"Fine, I'd better get this over with anyway. Not that you'll need most of it, if you're not being tried in America," he added under his breath. Clearing his throat, he raised his voice. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present now and during any future questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you free of charge if you wish."

"I want an attorney!" Vernon snapped immediately. McGee sighed and rolled his eyes again.

"Maybe," he said uncaringly. Vernon scowled.

"What do you mean, '_maybe'_?" he growled.

"Well, since you're not an American citizen, I'm not sure if the Miranda rights apply to you," McGee replied, lying through his teeth. He knew very well that they did, but Vernon didn't need to know that. '_Gibbs would kill me if I let lawyers get involved in this,'_ he thought. With that he left, closing the door with a snap.

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**A/N**: Sorry **tasty technology **(and everyone, but I told her what to expect cuz I needed help)! I know I told you that the interrogation would be in this chapter, but I don't have time to write all of that, find a good ending place, _and_ work on 'Learning the Truth' before I need to leave. So, interrogation in the next chapter! Sorry if I completely butchered the legal process. I did manage to do a bit of research (see the stuff on the Miranda rights; that much should be legit). Give me your opinions on the stuff at the top of the chapter. Sorry it's so short, but this was done in a hurry. Stupid school. Oh yeah, **tasty technology**, you can blame choir—between the concert and the auction I barely had time to type this weekend.

And now facebook won't let me update the story. You would have gotten this on Sunday otherwise.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: Though I have many half-formed diabolical plans to take over the world and thus own Harry Potter and NCIS, as of yet none have been set into motion and so, sadly, I cannot claim ownership.

**Stuff**: Urg, sorry it's been a while. I've had issues with this chapter. And school. Review and tell me how bad it is! No flames though. I'm still open to Ziva and McGee stuff. And this will NOT be a manipulative Dumbledore story! He will be misguided, but his intentions will be pure and he'll realize that the best place for Harry isn't with the Dursleys. There will definently be some tension in the beginning (and later on), but they'll all realize that they're on the same side and work together; he'll kinda be like he is in the books, though maybe (possibly, as in I don't know) with a stronger relationship with Harry that DOESN'T interfere with Harry's relationship with the NCIS team. As I said, there will be tension later on, so don't expect him to get away scot-free. Oh yeah, and I think I forgot to put it in a couple of chapters ago, but someone was wondering why Harry was acting so much younger than he actually is. That's because abused kids often either act too old or too young. The too young Harry just kinda came, and it worked for the "laying the foundation" of the Gibbs/Harry father/son relationship.

Learning to Love

Chapter 6

Harry sat quietly in the car as Ziva drove at breakneck speeds. After Quidditch he wasn't particularly bothered by her driving, though it was rather odd to be going that speed in a car. It was the first start of summer since beginning Hogwarts that he actually felt full; it was an odd feeling. Even weirder was the feeling of someone caring for him—sure, when he stayed with the Ron Mrs. Weasley always tried to make him eat and feel welcome, but this was different. He kept thinking back to when Gibbs had held him on the autopsy table. If he remembered hard enough he could still feel the strong arms holding him tight—undoubtedly, though, Gibbs only pretended to care because he didn't know how much of a freak Harry really was. Soon he would see that Harry didn't deserve his comfort and would toss him aside, just like the Dursleys.

The others were mysteries as well. He didn't understand why they seemed so angry that the Dursleys had punished Harry. Obviously most people weren't treated like this, but…well, he couldn't really come up with an argument against that. But to him it was normal, so he didn't know how to _not_ accept it, even if he knew it was wrong. He was jerked out of his thoughts by the car screeching to a halt outside the NCIS building—in what seemed to be a record time.

When he got out of the car, Ziva placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him into the building, stopping to be checked in by security. It was another feeling that took some getting used to—the Dursleys didn't like to touch him unless it was completely necessary or if they wanted to hurt him. Somehow he felt that Ziva understood, at least to an extent, and she didn't push him due to that. Instead she used light, occasional touches, not overwhelming him with contact as Mrs. Weasley often did. He actually found that he rather enjoyed it—that she showed that she cared (or at least, pretended to) through touch yet still respected the rather large boundaries his upbringing had given him. When they made it to the bullpen, McGee was waiting for them, working on the actual case in the meantime. Harry felt slightly guilty for taking their attention away from the murder yet didn't voice his opinion, knowing that they believed that his treatment at the hands of his relatives was wrong and wouldn't have any of it.

"Hey Ziva, Harry," the tech-savvy agent greeted. Ziva nodded and Harry shifted his weight slightly from one foot to the other. Ziva seemed to understand the silent (and completely subconscious) signal from the boy and removed her hand from his shoulder. Grateful, though he hadn't realized exactly how uncomfortable he had been, he smiled briefly at her before addressing the older man.

"Hello, Special Agent McGee," he said quietly. McGee grinned at him.

"No need for the "special agent" stuff," he told the young Brit. "Just call me Tim, or McGee like everyone else." Harry nodded his appreciation of the permission and Tim's attention shifted back to his teammate. "Gibbs has them right now," he told her, careful to avoid the names of Harry's "family". "Ducky's busy examining the body, but I think Abby's done checking out the little physical evidence we managed to bag and tag. She's just waiting on the fingerprint matches and Mass Spec. She's also quite eager to meet you," he winked at Harry. "Tony's with her," he finished.

"Well then, why don't we go down and see them then," Ziva said. "Then I'll come back up and we can see if we can get any leads. If you're alright with that," she shot at Harry. The boy looked confused as to why she was asking his opinion.

"Of course not," he said, puzzled. "I'm sorry that I've been distracting you from your job," he couldn't help but apologize. Ziva sighed and got down, level with Harry, so that she could look him in the eyes.

"Harry," she began, "you are far more important to me than this investigation right now—more important to all of us, and Abby hasn't even met you yet! Just remember, you are still alive and need far more care than a dead body. We can still do our jobs, and you are _not_ getting in the way," she said firmly. "Do you understand?" Harry bit his tongue to keep from protesting and nodded.

Ziva sent him one last piercing look before her expression softened and she stood up, gently rubbing his shoulder as she did so. "Well then," she said, her tone becoming brighter, "let's go see Abby. And Tony too, I guess," she added as an afterthought. McGee chuckled and ruffled Harry's hair as Ziva led the boy out of the bullpen.

When they reached the lab Harry jumped when a flash of white and black flew past him and flung its arms around Ziva's neck. Once the flash was still he saw it was a woman, her hair dyed black, her lips and fingernails painted black, and covered head-to-toe in black, except for the white lab coat that she was wearing.

"Ziva! You're back! Did you make sure he ate enough? You better have. Where is he?" she fired off rapidly. Catching sight of Harry's expression, Ziva smirked.

"Why don't you check behind you?" she answered, amused. Abby gasped and spun around, grinning as she did. She rushed forward to shake his hand and he was reminded forcefully of his first trip to The Leaky Cauldron, except that Abby Scuito didn't know that he was famous.

"Hi, I'm Abby! I'm the forensic scientist here at NCIS. Of course, you probably already know that, don't you? Gibbs and/or Ducky probably told you, right? Though I guess Ziva might have. You haven't really spent much time around Timmy, have you? I mean, you two must have seen him on the way here, because he was supposed to tell you to come. Though you might have come on—"

"Abby, let the kid breath," Tony said, standing up from her desk. "Don't worry," he winked, addressing Harry, "you get used to her after a while." Abby walked over and smacked Tony on the shoulder. "Hey!" he yelped. "Women," he said, rolling his eyes at Harry and earning himself another smack in the process, before sticking his tongue out at Ziva's "_Thank you Abby"_. "I'm Tony, by the way. Well, actually it's Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, but you don't have to call me that." Harry couldn't help it; he grinned up at the man. He reminded him somewhat of Fred and George Weasley—always able to make everyone laugh, despite the circumstances.

"So, Harry, what do you think of D.C.?" Abby asked, turning back to him. She seemed nice, though he was slightly thrown off by her hyper demeanor.

"It's pretty…cool," he said lamely, unable to think of any way to describe it. Ziva intervened.

"He had just reached his hotel when they found the body, so I doubt he's actually seen much of the city," she said. Abby grinned.

"Well then, we might have to give you a tour later on," she said, bouncing with anticipation. Tony perked up.

"Do you like movies kid?" he asked. Ziva and Abby rolled their eyes.

"Just ignore him Harry, he's a movie _freak_," Abby said with a groan. Tony stuck his tongue out at her.

"You two ladies should shut up so that Harry and I can partake in some manly conversation," Tony said, and arrogant tinge in his voice.

"About movies…" Ziva smirked.

"Yes! About movies! They are very manly," Tony defended.

"Whatever…" Abby muttered.

"So, do you?" asked the senior agent, ignoring the scientist.

"Er…I actually haven't seen very many," Harry confessed. Tony gasped and Ziva slapped her forehead.

"Well—" Tony was broken off by Abby.

"Hey, Harry, there were some questions I wanted to ask you about your lab results."

"Yeah?" he asked, nervous.

"Well, I found some weird stuff in your blood," she said. "It was like snake venom and tears. And Ducky found that the bones in one of your arms are younger than those in the rest of your body. Got any ideas?" Harry shifted.

There was no way he could tell them about the basilisk, or the bludger incident. Absolutely none. He would get arrested or something for breaking the International Statute of Secrecy. Plus they'd think he was insane, for believing in magic. He might not trust these people completely, but they were some of the first people who were nice to him without knowing his history—without knowing about Voldemort, or Lily, or James.

"No, not a clue," he replied, a bit too quickly to be believable. Tony eyed him suspiciously. Harry gulped slightly, silently praying that the older man would drop it, at least until he could come up with a better excuse.

"Alright," DiNozzo said, drawing out the syllable to display his disbelief. Despite this, Harry nearly breathed a sigh of relief. Now he just had to find a way to explain away a basilisk, a phoenix, and a ball that flies around and tries to kill people who are playing a magical game at fifty feet in the air on a broomstick before Tony brought it up again. He had done harder…maybe.

**. . .**

Vernon Dursley was, in a nutshell, completely and utterly pissed. The silver-haired man, the so-called "Special Agent" Leroy Jethro Gibbs, had come into the "interrogation room", glared at him, and turned around and walked right back out without another word. No one had come in for somewhere around thirty minutes. Now he was somehow in trouble with the law in a country he had never visited until today, and it was all that good-for-nothing boy's fault. Why, when he got his hands on that little freak…

On the other side of the one-way mirror, Gibbs watched the child abuser shift angrily in his seat. It had taken all of his will-power not to strangle the man then and there. He took a deep breath, trying to get rid of the memory of Harry's vibrant green eyes, coated with fear as Gibbs's blue ones took in the slowly yellowing bruise on his shoulder. In his mind, Harry's terrified face morphed into Kelly's, her eyes wide with fear for her father as he departed—though she hadn't known it, it was the last time those eyes would rest on him. He sighed, so lost in thought and grief that his hand immediately jumped to his gun when the door opened.

"Leon," Gibbs greeted stonily, his gaze returning to the bulky figure on the opposite side of the glass. Vance's eyebrows raised.

"Gibbs," he returned, following the former marine's line of sight. They sat in silence for a moment. "You know you can't hold him here, right Jethro? Even if he committed a crime on American soil, he isn't a citizen and this isn't our jurisdiction."

"I know, Leon. I just want to talk," he said, sweeping out of the room. Vance watched as the agent entered interrogation and sat down across from Dursley, staring him down. The door to the viewing room opened again.

"Oh, Director, I wasn't expecting to see you here," said a surprised McGee. Vance snorted slightly and turned back to the glass.

"I'm just making sure that Gibbs doesn't do anything I'll regret," he murmured. Tim nodded his understanding. "So why are you here, McGee?" Vance asked.

"Ah, um, I just kind of wanted to see Gibbs interrogate—uh, I can leave if you want," McGee stuttered nervously. Vance shook his head.

"No, go ahead and watch. It might be a while though. How's the case coming?"

"We've hit a dead end. We've checked and re-checked the crime scene and there are no new leads. All we can do is wait and hope that Abby can come up with something," McGee replied dully. "Ducky said that there's nothing with the body—no marks, no anything."

"And the kid?" Vance asked, shooting a sideways glance at McGee. "You all seem to be rather fond of him, even though you just met him today."

"He's with Abby, Tony, and Ziva in the lab. Ducky might be there too. And you haven't met him. He's the kind of person you're just drawn to."

"Hmm. Whether for a good reason or a bad one," Vance muttered, more to himself than to McGee. Both men's eyes jumped up to the glass when Vernon's voice broke into their thoughts. It seemed the man had had enough of the "Gibbs stare".

"You have no right to keep me here!" he yelled. Gibbs didn't even blink. "I have done nothing wrong and—" this time he had managed to garner a reaction from Gibbs. Vernon jumped back as the former Marine's hand slammed down on the table between them.

"Nothing wrong?" Gibbs asked dangerously. The large man let out a small whimpering noise. "You're telling me that you see nothing wrong in _hitting_ and _starving_ your thirteen-year-old nephew?"

"He's almost fourteen, and he's a freak! Besides, we never wanted that good-for-nothing—"

"Freak?" Gibbs was starting to lose his temper. "Good for nothing? He's just a kid!"

"His parents were just the same! They were lazy animals as well—"

"ENOUGH!" Gibbs roared. Vernon sunk back into his chair, courage failing once again. There was a kind of sick pleasure on McGee's face at Vernon's obvious fear. Perhaps he was now feeling the kind of emotions he instilled in his nephew? At that thought McGee's mouth settled into a grim line. Vance watched the scene intently, ready to intervene if Gibbs got to be too much. Of course, it wouldn't be with much pleasure that he removed his agent—he disliked the large man with a great intensity. Anyone who hurt children was extremely low in his book, and this man obviously felt no remorse…

"So," Gibbs began, slightly calmer than before. "You don't feel _any _regret for what you've done to your nephew."

"Regret?" Vernon blustered. "You think that I should feel _regret_ for disciplining my own nephew?"

"_Discipline?"_ Gibbs hissed. "You call this _discipline?_ Spanking I could understand, under some circumstances, but you _beat_ him! You _starve_ him! I bet you even work him until he's about ready to drop dead!"

Vance had seen enough. "Jethro," he said sternly, entering the interrogation room. A slightly shaking Vernon Dursley jumped up.

"Are you the man in charge of this establishment?" he demanded. Vance shot him a disdainful look.

"I am Director Leon Vance," he confirmed. "Now, if you could please come quietly, some agents will direct you to where you need to go. You may not be an American citizen, but you have committed a crime on our land and we will do our best to have you tried by our laws." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Or possibly yours. Whoever has the worst punishment for child abuse. Ah," he held up a hand as Vernon's mouth opened angrily. "Please do not waste any more of our time, or yours."

Needless to say, it was a screaming and kicking Vernon Dursley who was escorted out of interrogation by security.

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**A/N**: I am SO sorry that this took so long. I've just had a whole bunch of crap going on—end of the year's coming up so teachers are going crazy with assignments, family stuff, I got sick. So yeah. And this chapter didn't come very easily either. So, now I need your opinions again:

Before I forget about it, what do you think about a story where Harry finds his way to Mexico somehow and meets Mike Franks? I would write this after I finish with this one. Maybe have Jenny and Kate still alive? **Okay, so, I don't think that I worded that very well; I meant that Kate and Jenny would be alive in the new fic, not this one. Sorry about that** (Actually, what brought this up was that one episode—Swan Song or whatever it was; you probably know what I mean, since I brought up Franks)

Do you guys want Mike to come be in this story? If so, what kind of role would you want for him—like, an uncle or something to Harry?

So, next chapter will involve Gibbs getting guardianship from Petunia.

Review! No flames though.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: Hang on a minute, let me check…nope, I still don't own Harry Potter or NCIS. Dang.

**Dedication**: So, I don't usually do this, but I felt this was deserved. This chapter is dedicated to **crlncyln**, who has pm'd me twice, I believe, over the course of this story, asking for updates, and was my first reviewer. Also, I would like to thank **Luckyclover1583** for your pm. It means a lot that you all like this story so much!

**Stuff**: Alright, next chapter. I'm _so_ sorry I haven't updated! I've just been really busy and stuff. But…review! No flames though, then I'll just get pissed and you'll all have to deal with a whole long rant thing and no one will be happy and stuff with the rainbows and the unicorns…where did that come from? But whatever, constructive criticism is welcome, just not…destructive? Whatever. And you get to meet an OC! I didn't have him planned, he just kind of happened. And please give me feedback, I'm not sure how I've been doing on characterization and stuff. Tell me if someone's too OOC. And, you'll be pleased to know, the spark of inspiration that kept this story driven has returned! So, read on!

**Learning to Love**

**Chapter 7**

Gibbs strode into Abby's lab, making the trio look up. Abby and Tony were laughing. Harry had slightly more restraint, though a grin still brightened his face.

"Good to see that you three are getting along," he said offhandedly, pulling up a stool and joining them. "Though I can only imagine that this means there aren't any new leads on the case." Tony grimaced.

"Nothing, boss," he said. "Though we did get and I.D." Abby went to her computer and typed in something, making a picture come up on the plasma. It was a woman, obviously the person Harry had found in the bathtub. "Naval Petty Officer Jenna Lavine. We checked her bank activity," he said, cutting off Gibbs. "Nothing unusual there. In fact, there's nothing to suggest that anyone wanted her dead."

"Any family?" he asked, shooting a subtle look at Harry. He wasn't sure if the boy should hear all of this, but he _did_ need to talk to the child. Tony hesitated.

"That's where it gets a bit weird. Jenna never married, and it took a _long_ time to find out who her parents are. We're still trying to track them down, actually. We looked into her records…they were consistent after she turned, maybe, 21, but during her childhood they were few and far between. Just some stuff from her school and the required doctor's records…it's like she didn't exist outside of her school life."

"Just get a hold of that family ASAP, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "That's the only lead we've got." He turned to Harry. "The case wasn't the only reason I came down here. I was just talking to your aunt…"

Harry looked up apprehensively. He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, but he did know that he didn't want Gibbs to reject him. He had just met the man, but already his opinion mattered to him more than the Dursley's had since he was five. Not knowing what his aunt had told the man, and indeed if the agent believed her, Harry was afraid that Gibbs would abandon him just like his aunt and uncle…just like the Wizarding World…

Unbeknownst to Harry, Gibbs was equally anxious, though for different reasons. He wasn't sure how the child would react to his news. He had been unbelievably angry when Petunia had just dumped the boy, though a part of him was glad that she had. It made things so much easier. Now he just had to tell Harry…

"Um…" Gibbs tried to find the words. Tony and Abby exchanged glances; it wasn't every day that Gibbs was like this.

"Yes sir?" Harry prompted politely, and Gibbs realized that he had been silent for quite a bit.

"What did I tell you about calling me 'sir'?" he growled playfully, smiling slightly to show Harry that he wasn't in trouble. "So…I was talking to your aunt, and she…she gave me guardianship of you." He said it quickly, hoping, _praying_ that Harry would react positively.

"W-What? You…are you serious?" Harry asked, wide-eyed. He couldn't believe it; his aunt had given up guardianship? And Gibbs accepted? Did that mean that he wanted him? then another thing hit him—what would Dumbledore do? The Headmaster had said that he would have to stay at the Dursley's because of some protection his mother had left him. Dumbledore would undoubtedly find out, and then he would return him to the Dursleys with a scolding. But…he could enjoy it while it lasted, couldn't he?

Gibbs sighed in relief as a grin broke out over Harry's face. For a moment he had thought that Harry wouldn't want to stay with him.

"Yeah," he laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "How would you like to see my house?" He frowned as the grin faded.

"But don't you have to work? You don't have to drop everything, I can entertain myself," Harry said quietly. Gibbs closed his eyes and sighed. If he _ever_ got his hands on the Dursleys, they would die. Painfully.

Getting down to the boy's level, Gibbs looked him straight in the eyes. "Harry," he began, "You are _so_ much more important to me than this case, to all of us," he glanced up as Tony and Abby nodded.

He watched a struggle happen in the green orbs before him before an emotionless mask slammed down on the child's innocent face. Another defense…it seemed that he would be spending quite a bit of time bringing down the walls that kept Harry safe from the world—and separated from real, loving relationships.

"C'mon," he said, standing up. "We can decide how your room's gonna look. DiNozzo, you're in charge; Abby, keep him in check."

"Yes sir!" Abby cried, saluting him.

"Come on, boss!" Tony whined. Gibbs smirked, hand on Harry's back as they exited the lab.

**. . .**

Vance sat in his office, doing paperwork. He rubbed his eyes; this case that the MCRT were handling didn't make any sense at all. There was little _helpful_ information on the victim, and no viable cause of death had presented itself. Not to mention that they were still trying to track down the victim's family. And then there was the boy.

From what Vance had gathered, he had absolutely nothing to do with the case apart from being the unfortunate soul to find the body—something that he certainly wouldn't wish on a near fourteen-year-old child. Of course, the team immediately jumped to his aid when the abuse came to light—not that he blamed them. The Dursleys were horrible, he had seen that much for himself. And their surname sounded _so_ familiar…

Nevertheless, had circumstances been normal he would have objected to the team's deep involvement in the child's case. However, what with the dead end the murder case had lead them to, they could be doing worse things than helping some kid.

Though, now that Gibbs had gotten guardianship of the boy…no, it would be good for that man to have some form of family. Maybe he could help his agent keep the kid. He was sure his wife would back him…

Come to think of it, Vance had no idea _what_ the boy's name was. All he knew was that he didn't have his aunt and uncle's surname. On a whim, he shuffled through his papers until he found what he wanted. His eyes widened.

Now he knew why the name 'Dursley' was so familiar. This was impossible.

Harry Potter. The boy his agent had gotten guardianship of was Harry Potter.

Jumping up, Leon pounded the buttons that would make his office completely secure. Picking up the phone, he fervently dialed, thanking every being he could think of that circumstances had given him a contact.

"_Hello, you have reached the American Congress of Magic," _came a bored female voice from the other end of the line.

"Hello, this is Leon Vance, Director of the muggle Naval Criminal Investigative Service," he stated, keeping his voice level and calm.

"_And what would you be needing, Director Vance?" _the voice asked, perking up slightly. It wasn't every day that a muggle contacted the CoM.

"I need to speak with my cousin. She's a liaison from the British Ministry of Magic?"

"_Emmaline Vance?"_ the voice asked in interest.

"Yes. Please tell her that it's urgent."

"_Of course. I will connect you as soon as I can."_

Vance tapped his foot impatiently as Celestina Warbeck blared through the earpiece. The irritating music finally stopped, to be replaced with a familiar voice.

"_Hello?"_ came the annoyed greeting.

"Emmaline," Vance said cordially.

"_Leon? What's this about? I was in a meeting, but the secretary said that it was important and wouldn't take 'later' for an answer."_

"Do you _really_ want to know what it's about?"

"_Yes!" _ she snapped impatiently. It must be an important meeting, Leon mused, for is usually well-tempered cousin to be like this.

"Harry Potter," he said clearly, and despite his anxiety couldn't keep himself from laughing when he heard Emmaline drop the phone.

**. . .**

Emmaline Vance, despite her easy-going temper and gentle disposition when it came to those who weren't overly-corrupt politicians, terrorists, or murderers in general, was not a patient woman. She also could not stand the condescending nature that some people held—along with the pure arrogant sense of "I'm better than you, so obey me or face the consequences". During school this had put her at almost constant odds with the likes of Lucius Malfoy, who even after graduation and the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named found a twisted pleasure in flaunting his wealth and status at the times when she couldn't retaliate. To a lesser extent it also made her one of the few people on the "Light" side who didn't hail Albus Dumbledore as an omnipotent deity, seeing instead his inner mantra of "I know what's best for you" that was hidden behind his grandfatherly façade. Though perhaps it wasn't so much a façade—he truly cared about those around him, but it was quite clear to Emmaline that control was the weakness that so many had either been searching for in earnest or denying with a passion. He was a good man, she had decided long ago, with good intentions. He simply needed to relinquish control more often and realize that those he sought to use in his "big picture" were human lives—with emotions, families, hopes, and dreams.

It was this trap that Harry Potter had been placed into, she figured. She had heard that Dumbledore wanted him to stay with his aunt and uncle in order to keep blood wards charged—a measure of protection the boy savior desperately needed. At the time she had guessed that Dumbledore had been keeping an eye on him—during the First War she had heard from Lily that her sister disliked magic and her brother-in-law feared it—but it seemed that she was wrong. In his intent to keep the Boy-Who-Lived alive, he had disregarded the danger posed to him by his so-called "family".

It was this that found Emmaline in the office of the WCPS—Wizarding Child Protection Service. It was her faults in patience and tolerance that found her in WCPS, frustrated with the condescending secretary whose answer was always "just a few more minutes dear".

After an hour and a half of this back-and-forth play, Emmaline finally lost it.

"I have been waiting for over an hour!" she snapped. "There is an abused child whose guardianship needs to be finalized to ensure that he doesn't go back to that home again and I am missing an incredibly important meeting to make sure that doesn't happen!"

The secretary's eyes widened a fraction. "Just a few more minu—"

The door opened and a man came out. He had a mop of dark brown hair and friendly green eyes. He looked between the two, eyes scanning the secretary's slightly frightened look and Emmaline's flushed face. Shaking his head he walked toward Emmaline, hand extended.

"Ms. Vance?" he inquired. "I am Daniel Mason. I will be the social worker taking the Potter case." Emmaline stared as the man suppressed a smirk when the secretary's face was rewritten with shock.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mason," she said politely. .

Keeping hold of her hand and kissing her on the knuckles, he smiled charmingly. "The pleasure's all mine. Shall we go meet our charge?" He offered her his arm, which she took, shooting him suspicious glances nonetheless. Shooting a subtle glance at the secretary, Emmaline saw that she now looked angry. Smirk tugging at her lips as she realized what Mason was doing, Emmaline allowed him to lead her out.

"That was rather devious," she told him, unlinking her arm from his. He at least had the decency to look slightly abashed.

"She gets annoying. Always pining after me, being rude to everyone else. Besides, it gave me an excuse to have a beautiful woman on my arm," he grinned at her. "In fact," he said slyly, "I wouldn't mind too much if it happened again." She rolled her eyes.

"Well, seeing how I've only just met you, don't hold your breath." Seeing his pout, she rolled her eyes again and changed the subject. "I have the address. How are we going to get there, Mr. Mason?"

"It's Daniel, or Dan. And I have a car, Ms. Vance," he said, leading her through the building and out into the parking lot.

Emmaline shot him a measuring look. "Emmaline." She finally said. He grinned again.

"Okay, Emma," he said cockily. Blushing, she shot him a glare to rival that of Severus Snape himself.

"_Emmaline," _ she hissed, and he laughed.

**. . .**

Gibbs, Harry, and Ducky sat in Gibbs' living room, sipping at coffee, Coke, and tea respectively. Harry was quite surprised at how much he liked the muggle drink. He had only had soda a couple of times, and even then it wasn't name brands. Only generic stuff that Dudley had tried and disliked.

The two men were giving him facts about D.C. and telling him stories about themselves. Ducky, particularly, was an avid storyteller. So far they had allowed him to avoid talking about himself, though he wasn't at all sure how long that would last. They were currently waiting on the rest of the team. Though the case wasn't going well at all, Gibbs was in a good mood after getting Harry away from the Dursleys and invited everyone over for dinner. They all got excited when they heard that he would be barbecuing, to Harry's bemusement. Then everyone had taken it on themselves to inform Harry of his new guardian's incredible barbecuing skills. At the moment Tony and McGee were retrieving Harry's things from the hotel and Abby and Ziva were getting a bed and some painting supplies. Gibbs was planning on having Harry sleep in the (now former) spare room with the bed that night and then have everyone over to paint it the next day. He had already called and made an appointment for new carpet to be put in, and had practically had to force Harry to choose what he wanted. They had gone through the same process again to select paint for his room.

His room. The phrase was strange, even in his head. For as far back as he could remember, he had never had a room of his own. There was the cupboard under the stairs, Dudley's second bedroom, the Gryffindor boy's dormitory, Ron's room at the Burrow—but never "Harry's room".

Harry sat up straighter as the door opened. Tony and Tim entered, McGee holding his muggle suitcase.

"Hey Harry," Tony greeted cheerfully. "What do you keep in here kid? This thing's light!"

"As if you would know," McGee grumbled. Tony's reply was cut off by a bouncing Goth.

"We just came in, hope that's okay Gibbs," came Abby's hyperactive voice behind them. Ducky snorted.

"I do believe that Jethro has said many times that he would have not social life if he locked his front door, so I hardly think that he has a problem with you entering when he's been expecting you, Abigail." Ziva came in and smiled at Harry.

"Everything is outside. We thought that perhaps Tony would like to show off his 'cannons' and help carry in the bed."

"D'you mean 'guns'?" Harry inquired softly, not sure how to act around everyone. "Show off his guns?"

Ziva smiled brightly. "Yes, thank you Harry."

"Hey! I correct you and I get threatened, and Harry corrects you and you just smile?" Tony asked indignantly. Gibbs stood up to go outside, slapping Tony as he went.

"Are you just gonna stand there whining, DiNozzo, or are you gonna help me?"

"Coming boss!" Tony yelled, scurrying after him.

Harry showed McGee where to put the suitcase. Following the man out of the room, a thought hit him—he hadn't put everything in there! And—how could he have been so stupid—he had left his invisibility cloak back in England, along with his picture album and pocket sneakoscope and everything else besides some of his homework! Not to mention that Gibbs didn't even know he was a wizard.

After carrying the mattress and everything for the bed through with Tony, Gibbs saw Harry sitting on the couch quietly. He could tell that something was troubling the boy, but he wasn't sure what. He had seemed almost happy before…

Harry looked up as he felt the couch dip down beside him. Gibbs was sitting there, staring back.

"Hey," the man said. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Harry said dully, as though programmed to. Gibbs snorted.

"Don't you remember me telling you that if you're gonna lie, at least do it well? Now what's the matter?" He shot a glare at Tony, telling him to keep everyone away while he talked to Harry.

"Hey everyone, how about we go set up the backyard for dinner?" Tony announced, leading them all outside.

Harry was silent. Gibbs allowed it, letting the child gather his thoughts. It had been a while, but he was still a father at heart and he knew how to deal with kids.

"You-you want to keep me, right?" Harry asked, green eyes gazing innocently—and worriedly—at Gibbs.

"Of course!" Gibbs exclaimed, wondering what had brought this on. It was natural for the boy to be insecure—heck, it hadn't even been a whole day since he got guardianship—but he expected questions like that to come a little later on. Harry chewed on his lip.

"Well…what about my stuff that's in England? And my school?" he asked, almost panicking again as the latter occurred to him. Ron, and Hermione—would he get to see them again?

Sensing the child's worries, Gibbs placed a calming arm around his shoulders, drawing him into his side. The boy stiffened, automatically leaning away, before—somewhat reluctantly—relaxing into Gibbs. "We'll figure that out," Gibbs promised. "As for school, maybe we can find one that you like around here. You can keep in touch with your friends. Maybe we can even take a trip to England this summer, to get your things and visit everyone." He could tell that Harry wasn't completely reassured by this. He was about to speak again when a knock sounded at the front door.

* * *

**A/N**: So, you met my (completely unplanned) OC! He just kind of happened, while I was writing. Um…hope you liked it, and I hope to get the next chapter up MUCH sooner than this one…and the last one…so, there you have it! Please review, no flames! This should really start to pick up next chapter, with revelations about the Wizarding World!


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: Ownership of Harry Potter and NCIS, quite regrettably, does not belong to me.

**Involving OCs**: So, going through my reviews I noticed that many of you think that the OC I was talking about was Emmaline Vance. That would be incorrect. Emmaline is actually a canon character from Harry Potter—we don't really know anything about her, so her characterization is mine. If I remember correctly, she doesn't have a line in the whole series. However, she was a member of the Advance Guard in OotP and was one of the murder victims we learn about at the beginning of HBP—along with Amelia Bones (remember: the "Bones and Vance murders"). That being said, the only things that belong to me are the plot and the social worker Daniel Mason.

**Stuff**: So get this: my plan for the day was to write on this chapter and give you the update you all deserve. However, I get up and my grandma tells me that she needs my help going to Costco because she's watching my 2-year-old cousin. No problem, I could just write when I get back, right? But first we absolutely _had_ to go to this shop with toddler/baby stuff to look at sandals. We didn't find the ones she was looking for so she bought me a coffee and had me stay in the car with my cousin while she went into another kids store. When she came back out and saw that I had unbuckled his car seat so that he could move around a bit, she _had_ to take him in to show how cute he is (and he's pretty dang cute). After we were finally done there we still hadn't found sandals and the ones he was wearing cut into his feet so we stopped at some sports/hunting warehouse and got a REALLY good deal on some sandals, so of course we had to go show his mom at her work (she works at Starbucks). But he was hungry after running around all day and sitting in the car so much so we bought one of the protein plates and sat for a while. When we finally made it to Costco it was about 3:30 (and we had left sometime between 12:30 and 1:00). Once we _finally _made it through and got everything we needed, he was DONE for the day and guess what? The coupons we were going to use didn't start until the next day. UGH! Besides coffee, the only thing that came out of that trip was a new book. Has anyone read Born to Die by Lisa Jackson? Is it any good? Anyway, rant aside, here's chapter 8. Hope you like it. Please review, but, as usual, no flames.

**Learning to Love**

**Chapter 8**

Gibbs and Harry exchanged glances.

"I thought everyone was here?" Harry said, confused and slightly reserved. He didn't really want to deal with more people at the moment—it had been a very long and tiring day.

"So did I," Gibbs muttered. The knock sounded again, and Tony poked his head in through the back door.

"Hey boss, you might want to get that. I know people don't usually knock around here, but it's generally considered common courtesy to answer the door when people do."

"Don't tell me about 'common courtesy', DiNozzo," Gibbs growled. "Abby," he called louder to the Goth walking passed Tony. He nodded his head in the senior agent's direction. Grinning, Abby obeyed the silent command and slapped Tony across the back of the head.

"Hey!" Tony yelped, whirling around to chase a giggling Abby around the yard.

Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, Gibbs stood up. "How 'bout you go out there and keep an eye on those two, huh?" Harry smirked slightly and ran outside. It was with a slightly softer expression that Gibbs went to answer the door.

"Leon," he said in slight surprise, moving aside to let the director in. "What're you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood and I thought I'd swing by to see how you were doing," Vance answered. "Though I do hope I'm not gatecrashing a party?" Gibbs snorted.

"That's me Leon, the Party King," he replied sarcastically. "Don't worry. Just dinner. You wanna stay?"

"That would depend on how long this takes," Vance said, choosing his words carefully.

"I'm assuming this isn't a social call," Gibbs said, entering the kitchen and rummaging around in the cupboards. Emerging with two glasses and a bottle of bourbon, he poured them each a drink.

"You assume right. There are some…things you need to know about Harry. And his parents," Leon said, accepting the drink from his employee and friend. "I've called in my cousin. She should be here soon with a social worker."

"Hmph," Gibbs grunted at the mention of a social worker. "Harry's parents are dead—at least, that's what the file said. There was no cause, though." This time, it was Vance who snorted.

"No, there certainly wouldn't be," he muttered under his breath, though still loud enough for Gibbs to hear. The silver-haired man's eyes narrowed. "They were murdered," he informed louder. "You remember the terrorist attacks in England, ended nearly thirteen years ago?" At Gibbs' sharp nod, he continued. "Do you remember the date?"

"That's easy," Gibbs murmured. "We kept trying to send people over there to help. Their government always declined. October 31st. Halloween."

Vance inclined his head. "Did that file of yours tell you when the Potters died?"

"No…but I'm guessing it was the same day." His eyes narrowed. "Are you telling me the Potters had something to do with it?" Leon sighed.

"James and Lily Potter were members of an underground society who devoted themselves to stopping the D—the terrorists," Vance hastily stopped himself from saying "Dark Forces". "The head of the terrorist group, a man called V—Tom Riddle, took a special interest in the Potters. No one knows why. Lily and James took their son into hiding. However, their location was betrayed and Riddle found them. Harry was the only known survivor; Riddle disappeared."

Gibbs took a sip of bourbon, almost wishing he had something stronger. "So Harry's a high priority target," he rasped. Vance nodded grimly. Joyful screams and laughs came from outside.

"To my knowledge, Riddle has made two attempts on his life since that night; once at the end of Harry's first year at his boarding school and once at the end of his second. Harry met one of the man's servants at the end of his third as well." Gibbs was pale.

"Harry's nearly died four times. He's not even fourteen yet! And what's this about boarding school?" he demanded. A small smirk lit on Vance's face.

"Ah, so he hasn't told you yet? He attends the same boarding school his parents did; he has since he was eleven. I'm pretty sure it's somewhere in Scotland," he pondered. "I know they take a train."

Gibbs gritted his teeth. "I'll deal with that later. So what about this murderer? You haven't really given me anything to go on, Leon."

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait on my cousin for the details, Jethro. I'm sorry," he held up a placating hand, "it's not my place to tell you."

"And it's your cousin's place? Wouldn't Harry—"

"I mean that it's confidential, Gibbs," Vance raised his voice slightly.

"It can't be that big of a thing."

"You'll see," Leon muttered. There was another knock at the door. "That should be them."

Finishing off his drink, Gibbs stood to let them in. However, he was stopped when a tired looking Ducky came in leading an angry Tony and Abby. They were followed by Harry, McGee, and Ziva, all of whom were having varied degrees of success in containing their laughter.

"Jethro, could you _please_ calm them down?" Ducky asked, tired as he looked.

"What's going on?" Gibbs demanded.

"Tony smudged my makeup!" Abby immediately cried, throwing a glare in the agent's direction. Tony scowled at her.

"Only after you _tripped_ me," he shot back.

"You were chasing me!"

"You Gibbs-slapped me!"

"Gibbs told me to!"

"What ever happened to 'just say no'?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Hey!" Gibbs snapped. "You two are adults! Could you start acting like it?" There was a pause, before—

"But DiNozzo _smudged_ my _makeup_!"

"Because you _tripped_ me!"

At this point Harry, Ziva, and McGee were roaring with laughter in the background, Gibbs felt a headache coming on, and Ducky was looking worriedly at his friend. Vance had sunk back to answer the door and let the now forgotten guests inside.

A new voice—one that was female, with a British accent—broke through Tony and Abby's argument. "Well, I had thought that there was only one child here. I guess I was mistaken."

Everyone turning to look at Vance and the smirking newcomers. Of course, apart from Gibbs, no one had known that the director of NCIS was there. Actually, Harry didn't even know who the man was. Tony and Abby blushed tomato red immediately. Vance cleared his throat.

"Hello everyone," he greeted. "For those of you who don't know, I am Leon Vance, Director of NCIS." At this he nodded toward Harry and the brown haired newcomer. "This is my cousin from England, Emmaline Vance. She is a liaison between two very special parts of the British and American government." He suppressed a smile as Harry's eyebrows went up; the boy certainly was sharp. "And this would be the social worker she brought," he observed the other man. "What would your name be?"

"I'm Daniel Mason. I'm with WCPS," he stepped forward, giving Harry a crooked grin as he saw the kid's eyes widen a fraction. It seemed the boy savior was more than just a face. Good.

"Um, excuse me sir, is that like Child Protection Services?" Abby asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. The others looked on in interest, Tony completely forgetting his previous argument with the forensic scientist.

"It's a very special faction of CPS, yes," Mason answered. "And forget the sir. It's either Daniel or Dan, as I told miss Emma here." Emmaline's eyes narrowed at him. Feigning remorse, Daniel quickly backtracked. "Oh, sorry, _Emmaline._" Said woman snorted and rolled her eyes. Obviously choosing to ignore the social worker for the moment, she turned and addressed Gibbs.

"I'm assuming my cousin gave you the general outline of what we're going to tell you? Gibbs, correct?" Jethro nodded.

"Yeah, he did. Said it was confidential. Will my team be told as well?" Here Emmaline hesitated. She knew she was well within the Statute of Secrecy to tell Gibbs, seeing that he was coming into guardianship of a wizard. However, after seeing the ties made in the Auror Special Forces teams, she knew that a group like this could keep the information secure. The trouble was getting the government to see it like that. Not to mention that they _had_ lost a team member, and the last director. If that were to happen again, at least the replacement for the team would have to be informed once everyone got used to the arrangement again. She inwardly shuddered at the thought of her cousin being replaced in such a manner.

"Will they be involved much in Harry's life?" she questioned carefully.

"Of course," Gibbs said, nodding sharply.

Before Emmaline could form an answer, Mason spoke. "Then yeah, of course," he said, raising an eyebrow at Emmaline's glare. She angrily pulled him off to the side.

"What are you doing?" she whispered furiously, too low for the others to hear. Gibbs shot a look at Leon, only to have the director shake his head.

"You heard Gibbs, they're gonna be involved with him, so they're gonna find out sometime. I mean, this is _Harry Potter _we're talking about, his life isn't exactly _normal_ by any standards!"

"Yes, but—"

"But nothing!" he whispered sharply. "We can take on the government. I have quite a bit of experience with lawyers, and the name 'Potter' can get you far, even in America—especially when the first name's 'Harry'. Not to mention that it seems like anyone who goes against Gibbs is doomed to fail—I looked into his background a bit after I got your Floo call." Emmaline seemed to struggle with herself for a moment before conceding defeat.

"Fine," she said at normal volume. "But if we get arrested and tried before the ICW, I'm holding you responsible."

"And if we just get arrested?" he asked cheekily. She glared.

"Then I still blame you."

"Care to tell us what you're talking about?" Tony butted in, annoyed. "What's the 'ICW', and 'WCPS'?"

"Maybe we should all sit down," Leon suggested. "This could take a while."

Gibbs showed everyone into the living room, sending calculating glances toward his boss the whole time. When everyone was seated, Harry spoke up from his spot beside Gibbs, looking at Emmaline and Daniel.

"Is this legal?" he inquired softly. "What about the Statute of Secrecy?"

Daniel smiled kindly. "Don't worry kid. Agent Gibbs needs to know, and I'm sure everyone will find out eventually. We'll deal with all those stuffy bureaucrats; the Wizarding World really needs a wakeup call. Mph. Well, they were gonna find out anyway!" he yelled indignantly as Emmaline's elbow plowed into his side.

"Wizarding World?" Gibbs asked skeptically. "What's that, some kind of code?"

"No, it's not," Vance broke in. "It's exactly what it sounds like Jethro. Witches and wizards exist. They built a community apart from muggles—that would be their term for those without magic—and learn and thrive. The boarding school I told you Harry goes to is called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry's a wizard, as is Mr. Mason, and Emmaline's a witch."

There was silence while everyone processed the strange words coming from the director's mouth. Harry waited with bated breath for someone to speak, fearing rejection. Though, at the same time he was fearing acceptance. If they accepted him, they would grow close. And then they would get torn away, just like Sirius…just like his parents. But that wouldn't happen, he 'comforted' himself. They'd see him as a freak, just like the Dursleys…

They all jumped as a squeal broke the silence. "I always knew magic existed!" Abby said excitedly, bouncing in her place on the floor by Gibbs' legs. "Can you show us some?"

"Yes," Gibbs said suspiciously. "I'd like some proof." Harry warily watched him.

Daniel happily produced his wand with a flourish, but Emmaline stopped him. "Maybe Harry should do it," she said pointedly.

"But I thought I wasn't allowed to use magic outside of school?" he asked.

"This is a special circumstance," Emmaline explained gently. "Even muggleborns are allowed to show their parents magic each summer, to show their parents that they _are_ learning something. Just show everyone the most advanced thing you learned this year."

Harry racked his brains for a spell he could show. "Does it have to be something we specifically learned in class?"

"No…" Emmaline said, mind racing. What would a kid have studied outside of class that was more advanced than what they were learning in school? Unless…there were the rumors that Harry had…

Harry stood up and moved off to the side where it was clearer. Drawing his wand, he took a deep breath and called forth what his initial feeling had been when Gibbs had told him he had gotten guardianship from Harry's aunt. He wouldn't have to go back to the Dursleys…

"Expecto Patronum," he spoke clearly. A silvery stag burst from the tip of his wand, galloping around the room in search of the threat before coming to a stop in front of Harry. The boy smiled reminiscently, murmuring aloud the word "Prongs." Slowly the stag faded, leaving the entire room staring in awe.

"I-I didn't think they taught patronuses in third year," Daniel said faintly.

"They don't," Harry blushed. "But there were dementors around the school this year, and I don't react very well to them. Professor Lupin taught me."

"Incredible," the social worker breathed. "And you're thirteen? When did you first pull it off?"

"Um…well it was a shield up until the last Quidditch match of the year, when we were playing Ravenclaw. Some of the Slytherins dressed up as dementors and tried to keep me from catching the snitch, but I used the charm while I was chasing it. We one," Harry felt the need to add in, smirking slightly when he recalled the look on Malfoy's face.

"Hold on," Gibbs said. "What the _hell_ are you talking about?" He could have hit himself when he saw Harry wince. He had nearly forgotten the child's situation, so caught up he was in his confusion. His head was swimming—he had no idea what 'patronuses' were, not to mention Quidditch, Ravenclaw, Slytherins, dementors, or anything else the pair was saying. He sighed.

"Harry," he said, a gentleness most rarely heard colouring his voice. He got down in front of the boy, keeping eye contact. "I'm not mad at you, and I'm sorry that I sounded so harsh." He ignored the surprised looks his agents gave him as he broke rule number six—"Never say you're sorry. It's a sign of weakness."

"I'm just really confused—I'm entering a world that I know nothing about. I'm sure you know how scary that can be," he looked at Harry, who nodded shyly. "And you can ask pretty much anyone who knows me and they'll tell you: I don't like being in the dark."

Tony, Abby, Ziva, McGee, Ducky, and Vance took it upon themselves to nod emphatically behind Gibbs, succeeding in drawing a small laugh out of Harry. Gibbs shot a glare at the NCIS workers, though it was diluted by the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"S-So you don't care that I'm magic?" Harry asked desperately, heart soaring when Gibbs shook his head. The Marine pulled him into a hug.

"I wouldn't care if you were Asian, French, German, Polish—why would I care if you're a wizard? It's just another culture." Emmaline nodded approvingly.

"That's right Harry," she said. "That's what blood purists don't seem to get—that we're just another culture." Daniel wrinkled his nose.

"I hate blood purity," he whined. "It's so stupid. And blood purists are so stuck up! Like the Torins."

Emmaline snorted. "Jasper Torin? He's tame. You should come over to England and meet Lucius Malfoy. _He's_ a right—"

"_Perhaps_ we should explain the things the pair of you have brought up so far," Leon cut in before his cousin could say anything. He had been on the receiving end of her rants about Malfoy senior quite a few times, and they were never appropriate for children.

"Right, um…" Daniel trailed off, at a loss of where to begin.

"Maybe we should discuss this over dinner," Gibbs suggested reluctantly, not wanting to wait any longer.

"Or we could move it outside," McGee said brightly. He was very interested in magic. He could hardly believe what he had seen Harry do, but Vance was no-nonsense—he knew that it had to be real, if Vance believed in it. "There's enough room at the tables, and we could still talk while Gibbs is cooking."

"Cooking outside?" It was Daniel's turn to be confused. He was a pureblood who hadn't had time to completely immerse himself in muggle culture. Sure, he had studied aspects of it—such as transportation—but he had never gotten around to cuisine.

"Barbecuing," Harry said automatically, used to translating for Ron. "It's like a stove that can be used outside. It burns coal and there's a grate that you put the food on."

"Nice Harry," Emmaline said. "Good job putting it into simple terms for the ickle pureblood." Daniel stuck his tongue out and Harry shrugged.

"My two best friends are a pureblood and a muggleborn. You get used to it."

Once they had moved outside, Ducky was the first with a question. "What is all of this 'blood' you're talking about? I can only assume that it's a type of status, though the way you say it there are some who see it that way more than others."

"Purebloods are—by the loosest definition—those who have four magic biological grandparents. The grandparents must only be witches and wizards—no creature blood (such as werewolves, vampires, or goblins) may 'taint' the line."

"However, those who actually care about it can usually trace their lineage back generations," Daniel added. Emmaline nodded in agreement.

"Muggleborns are witches and wizards who are born to those without magic. Blood purists look down on muggleborns, muggles, creatures, and those who stand up for their rights because they think that they are above everyone," she explained.

"And then you have those like Harry here, who were either born to a pureblood and a muggleborn or a pureblood and a muggle. They're halfbloods," Daniel finished. "Oh yeah, blood traitors associate willingly with muggles, muggleborns, and creatures. That'd be me!" he stated proudly.

"And what would you be, Ms. Vance?" Ducky asked.

"A halfblood. My father was a muggle. His brother is Leon's father," she said.

"I know about magic because our families stayed in close contact, even though we lived on opposite sides of the Atlantic," Leon added.

The questions went on—Harry happily answering the one about Quidditch—well through dinner. Daniel and Emmaline helped set up Harry's bed, though Gibbs declined their offer of spelling the paint onto the walls, preferring to do it manually. Gibbs sent Harry—who, due to a combination of exhaustion and the need to adjust to the new situation, didn't protest—to bed at ten o'clock. The adults then sat in the living room, sipping bourbon and some wine that Gibbs had scrounged up.

"So," Gibbs gave Vance a piercing stare. "You said I would get the details. Harry's safely in bed." The "start talking" went unsaid, but it was still quite obvious.

"Details about what?" Ziva asked, staring suspiciously between the two. She had been quiet through the whole explanation of magic, preferring to simply listen and gain an understanding.

"The night Harry's parents died," Daniel answered tightly, looking between the pair as well. "They were magic, killed by magic."

"So I'm guessing," Gibbs started slowly, "that the terrorist attacks in England—the ones that ended nearly thirteen years ago—were caused by witches and wizards?" Emmaline nodded, pain twisting her face. She had lost friends and family during that war—it was still very painful to think about.

"The Dark Forces," she muttered. "That's what everyone called them."

"Lead by Tom Riddle," he prompted gently. He had been to war, and he knew the pain and devastation it could cause. But right now, he needed answers.

"Most don't know him by that name. It was the name he was born with, but he was very loathe to keep it. He changed it to—he changed it to…"

"Voldemort," came a quiet voice in the hallway. Emmaline flinched—Vance and Daniel grimacing slightly—and everyone turned to see Harry, in oversized clothes, standing there.

"'Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself,'" he quoted to Emmaline. "I couldn't sleep," he defended at Gibbs' stern look. "Besides, I could give you a better account of what happened that night." The man stared for a moment before sighing.

"Fine," he conceded, "but just this once." He beckoned Harry over to where he was sitting, the armchair big enough to seat both of them side-by-side. He automatically put an arm around Harry's shoulders. The boy stiffened before hesitantly leaning into Gibbs' side, still reluctant to get close to anyone yet craving the interaction he had gotten in the autopsy room. And he would need the support, with the story he was telling.

"Riddle fashioned the name 'Voldemort'"—here he ignored the shudder—"for himself when he was sixteen. He gathered followers and became the most feared dark lord of the age." Here he took a moment to collect himself, preparing to delve into his nightmare—what he had relived when the dementors were around.

"On…that night he came to our house." Harry pulled his knees up to his chest, leaning further into Gibbs. "He killed my dad first. M-My mum begged and pleaded for him to leave me, to kill her instead. He kept telling her to stand aside. He said that she could live, that he only wanted me." Gibbs' arm tightened around him, and the smell of coffee and sawdust flooded his nostrils. Abby got up from her place on the floor and curled up on the arm of the chair, placing an arm around Harry's neck and glared out at the room as though threatening anyone who dared try to hurt him. In the direness of the situation, Tony had to hold back a laugh; she looked like some sort of bizarre guard dog, collar and all.

"He killed her." They all watched sadly as they child took in a shuddering breath. "Then he tried to kill me. But he couldn't. The spell he used rebounded and destroyed his body. His spirit escaped, and I was left with my scar." Silence followed the end of his story.

"In the Wizarding World, Harry's known as the Boy-Who-Lived. He's famous for ending a war that had lasted for eleven years," Daniel said softly. "Even in America, where Voldemort barely had a hold compared to in England, he's very well-known."

"Harry," Gibbs asked tentatively, "do you know who betrayed you and your parents to Voldemort?" Harry nodded, looking downcast.

"He escaped from the wizarding prison Azkaban last year," Emmaline said helpfully. "Sirius Black."

This drew a reaction from Harry, who was so tired that he didn't care that Sirius was a convicted murderer. "No it wasn't!"

His outburst made everyone jump. He just looked around angrily. "Sirius was framed! He didn't kill anybody. It was Peter Pettigrew," he explained. Emmaline looked confused.

"Peter Pettigrew is dead, Harry. Black killed him."

"No! Pettigrew framed Sirius! Me, Ron, and Hermione found out towards the end of the school year but Fudge wouldn't believe us."

"You have to admit, Fudge _is_ a moron," Daniel muttered to Emmaline, who waved him off while inwardly agreeing with him.

"Why was Fudge there?" she asked.

"He was going to execute an innocent hippogriff," Harry said as though it were obvious.

"Why is everybody wanting chocolate all of the sudden?" Tony asked. Daniel snickered.

"Cornelius Fudge is the British Minister for Magic," Emmaline told him.

"I would love to see his face if he heard you say that," Daniel muttered, still laughing.

"Why do you say that Black was framed, Harry?" Gibbs asked patiently. He could see that Emmaline's line of questioning would get them nowhere and, quite frankly, he was tired.

"Should I start at the beginning?" Harry asked. Gibbs sighed inwardly and nodded.

"Yay, story time!" Tony said enthusiastically.

"You know Anthony, if you enjoy stories so much you could come visit me sometime. Heaven knows I have plenty," Ducky said, eyes twinkling.

"Um…"

"Anyway," Harry said, saving Tony and earning a grateful look from the agent, "in school my dad had three best friends. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. Together they became the Marauders, a group that pulled pranks and stuff.

"Eventually dad, Sirius, and Pettigrew found out that Lupin was a werewolf. Rather than shun him like most of the Wizarding World did, they came up with a way to help him. They became unregistered animagi."

"Animagi are witches and wizards who can change into animals at will. Usually the ministry keeps track of them, but some people don't register like they're supposed to," Emmaline explained.

"Yeah. Sirius became a dog, Pettigrew became a rat, and dad became a stag," Harry said proudly.

"Like your patronus," McGee remembered.

"Mhmm. Werewolves only attack humans, so an animagus would be safe. When mom and dad went into hiding they hid under a spell called the Fidelius." He waited for Emmaline to finish her explanation.

"They were going to make Sirius their secret keeper but decided that he would be a decoy. They made Pettigrew the real secret keeper. Only the four of them knew.

"When Sirius found out that mom and dad had been betrayed he went looking for Pettigrew. On a street full of innocent muggles, Pettigrew yelled out that Sirius had betrayed the Potters before blowing up the street, cutting off one of his fingers, and transforming into a rat.

"Later Sirius was sent to Azkaban—without a trial—for killing twelve muggles and Peter Pettigrew," Harry finished.

"And Black told you this when you met him," Emmaline asked skeptically. Harry nodded.

"Him and Professor Lupin, who had figured it out." There was no way he was going to tell them about the Marauder's Map. "They showed us Pettigrew too. But it was the full moon and Professor Lupin had forgotten his potion and transformed, so he escaped."

"You've seen Pettigrew!" Daniel started.

"He was hiding with the Weasley family for twelve years. He was passed on to my best friend Ron when he was eleven." Harry yawned.

"Time for bed. Though I would like to hear a little more about your escapades tomorrow," Gibbs said sternly, but Harry's eyes were already closing. He smiled softly as the boy's breathing evened out. He picked up the child and carried him to his room, tucking the child into the new bed. He laid a kiss on Harry's forehead and padded out.

In the living room everyone was talking about the curse that had killed Harry's parents. Apparently, no one had survived before Harry. That was partially why it was such a big deal. Apparently the only way to block the spell was to put something physical between it and you. It left the corpse unblemished—an untraceable death.

This made the agents stop and look at each other. It couldn't be, could it?

"The case we have right now," Gibbs said. "The death of Naval Petty Officer Jenna Lavine. The only trauma to her body occurred post-mortem, and she wasn't poisoned. Is it possible that this spell—?"

Daniel had gone white. Emmaline's eyes narrowed. "Lavine," she pondered. "Isn't that an American Wizarding name?" Daniel nodded, looking sick.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I grew up with her. We were friends. I-Is she really dead?"

"I'm afraid so," Tony said softly. "You said you knew her—what about her parents? Is she a witch? Do you know anyone who would want her dead?"

"There are plenty of people who would like her dead," Daniel said. "None for personal reasons though—she was a squib. It's kind of the opposite of a muggleborn. Someone without magic who is born into a magic family. Her parents are great—rather than throw her out like they 'should have', they helped her integrate into the muggle world. They sent her to muggle school but still educated her about wizards. Our families were close. I can get a hold of them for you, if you want."

"That'd be great," Tony said gently. He knew firsthand how it felt to lose someone.

"As for the Killing Curse, it's a plausible theory," Emmaline said, taking pity on Daniel. "I'll get someone to look into it for you. It's an odd coincidence that Harry was the one who found her, wasn't it?"

She nearly fell backward at the fire in Gibbs' eyes.

"There's no such thing as a coincidence."

* * *

**A/N**: There you go! WAY faster than the last two chapters, huh? Please read the thing about OCs at the top, if you haven't already, I just want to clear that up. Thanks to all of my wonderful reviews! I'd love more!


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: Still don't own Harry Potter or NCIS. Daniel Mason is mine though, as is the plot.

**Stuff**: So, to those of you who have pointed it out, I have been spelling Emm_e_line's name wrong. Thank you! I will be changing it. I just couldn't figure out why it looked weird, and spell check is useless sometimes. I think that the way this story is going to go is that I'll go through phases of quick updates when that spark of creativity and drive for this story is still there, then have times when updates are fewer and farther between, when my writer's block takes over. I _will_ do my best to keep the gap between updates as small as possible though. On that note, thank you for all of the reviews! They truly are amazing—you know how fire needs fuel, air, and heat to burn? Well, the reviews are like the fuel to this story! Thank you so much! Please send more—and feel free to criticize, just don't flame. I find it counterproductive for my writing style. Anyhow, read on!

**Learning to Love**

**Chapter 9**

"Harry. _Harry,_ come on, wake up," came a voice. It was somewhat familiar, breaking through his comfortable sleep.

"'M comin', Aunt P'tunia," Harry replied groggily, sitting up and trying to find his glasses.

"Do I sound like your aunt to you?" Gibbs asked. The blurry form of the silver-haired man swam into vision.

"Oh!" Harry gasped, realizing where he was. Gibbs laughed, pressing his glasses into his hand.

"There you go," he said cheerfully. Or, as cheerful as Leroy Jethro Gibbs gets. "You hungry? I've got some pancakes on the stove. Speaking of which, I need to go check on them. Just come out when you're ready." With that he left, ruffling Harry's hair once more.

Harry sat in bed for a few moments, trying to process what had happened. Coming to America…finding the body…NCIS…the Dursleys getting arrested…coming home with Gibbs…and then—and then—

He had told Gibbs and the others about magic, along with a wizarding social worker and a liaison with the British Ministry…and the director of NCIS. And they had taken it _well._ And now Gibbs was making him pancakes…no one had ever done that for him before. Well, not that he could remember, anyway. Mrs. Weasley had already been making breakfast for her family, so he had kind of just been there, and the Leaky Cauldron served breakfast that he had to pay for. But this…It was all so overwhelming…so foreign.

Deciding to get up, Harry carefully swung himself out of bed. Opening his suitcase, he chose the smallest, least threadbare clothes he could find and threw them on. It wouldn't do for Gibbs to see the worst of the rags that the Dursleys had given him—the man had shown extreme disapproval at the Dursley's treatment of him.

Padding into the kitchen, Harry was greeted by the sight of a large stack of pancakes that was only growing taller. Gibbs stood at the stove, whistling as he flipped yet another sweet-smelling circle onto the plate. He looked up as Harry entered.

"Hey kid," he greeted, quirking a smile. "Grab a plate. Syrup's in the cupboard." He gestured toward said cupboard, before realizing that Harry's slight form would be unable to reach it without help.

"I can—"

"No problem," Gibbs reached up and grabbed the Mrs. Butterworth's and placed it on the counter. Harry grabbed a plate from the stack and went to stand by the stove, feeling slightly awkward not being the one doing the cooking. "Here" He took a fork and stabbed through four of the pancakes, allowing them to slide off onto Harry's waiting plate. He set the fork on the side, along with a butter knife and sent the boy in to the table.

"Thanks," Harry said quietly, squirting on the syrup and raising his knife. He cut out a square and put the pancake in his mouth. It was delicious.

"How is it?" Gibbs asked, hanging in the doorway.

"Really good," the boy replied, swallowing. A bit of syrup smeared in the corner of his mouth. Gibbs smiled.

"I'll get a napkin." He disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a paper towel that he handed to the blushing Harry.

"So why are there so many?" Harry asked, trying to draw the attention away from himself.

"Besides the fact that you need to get some meat on your bones? We're having guests. Don't worry, just the people from last night," Gibbs assured Harry, who had tensed in apprehension.

"Okay." The door opened.

"Gibbs!" came a happy, hyperactive female voice. Abby came running into the room, throwing her arms around Gibbs' neck. "And Harry!"

Harry flinched slightly as she bounded up and ruffled his hair, but grinned up at her all the same. Gibbs shook his head.

"Pancakes are in the kitchen, Abs," he told her, only to have her rush past him to get a plate. He shook his head.

"You get used to her," he said to Harry, who grinned again.

"So I've heard." The door opened again.

"Dang it! Abby beat me! You better have left some pancakes for me, Scuito!" Tony yelled from the hall. A sigh escaped Gibbs' lips.

"What've I told you about yelling in the house, DiNozzo?" he called.

"Sorry boss," Tony said as he passed them, heading to the kitchen.

"I thought you didn't have kids?" Harry smirked.

"Funny," Gibbs drawled. Inwardly he winced—he knew he would have to tell Harry about Shannon and Kelly eventually. It just hurt _so bad_. But he would be the last one to admit it, as well as the last one to say that Harry was good for him—a way to move on.

Eventually everyone arrived, with only a few minor injuries resulting from Tony and Abby being in the same kitchen with Gibbs' cooking. After breakfast (which Gibbs had had to prevent from turning into a syrup fight) they all seated themselves in the living room, Harry beside Gibbs again. He was slowly acclimating himself to being close to the man, but it was getting better.

"Well, I have to admit that that was some of the best breakfast I've had in a long time," Daniel announced, belching loudly and receiving a high-five from Tony. Emmeline rolled her eyes in disgust. "So, onto the first order of business—"

"The dead Petty Officer," Emmeline interrupted, feeling a headache coming though it wasn't even noon yet.

Harry had been filled in over breakfast, after much arguing the night before over what he should be told. Finally it had been decided that it was safer for him if he knew that it was possible for someone to be after him—so long as he didn't try to get too involved.

"Do we have any leads?" Leon asked. Daniel shook his head.

"I still need to contact the Lavine family," he said, grimacing.

"What was the spell, anyway?" Harry asked, curiosity getting the better of him. Emmeline and Daniel exchanged glances. Everyone else perked up as well.

"Well you see, there are three spells that are classified as Unforgivable by the International Confederation of Wizards," Daniel started slowly. "You'll probably be learning about them soon in Defense—"

"I wouldn't count on it, with our Ministry," Emmeline broke in.

"Plus our Defense teachers aren't very…consistent," Harry added, with Emmeline nodding her agreement.

Daniel sighed. "Alright then. In that case, let's start out off topic, shall we? In Britain, the penalty for using an Unforgivable on another human being is a life sentence in Azkaban, I believe." He looked questioningly at Emmeline, who nodded. He brushed a brown lock out of his eyes. "In America, we have our own…punishment." He shuddered. "But I won't get into that right now.

"The first Unforgivable is the Cruciatus Curse. It causes _extreme_ pain to the victim—to them time loses all meaning. A few seconds can feel like hours. But a full two minutes under a proper Cruciatus can cause nerve damage—any more than four could cause irreparable brain damage. Insanity."

"Do you know Neville Longbottom, Harry?" Emmeline inquired softly. Harry nodded in confusion.

"We sleep in the same dorm," he said. "He's nice."

"So were his parents," she said heavily. "Frank and Alice were friends of mine during the last war. They were tortured to insanity by Death Eaters after the fall of You-Know-Who."

"So that's why Neville lives with his grandmother…" Harry said quietly. "He never said…"

"Just try and keep it to yourself," she told him. "Let Neville tell everyone when he's ready."

No one spoke, as though everyone were partaking in an unplanned moment of silence for the Longbottom family. Gibbs gently stroked Harry's back, understanding how hard it must be for the boy to hear about one of his friend's hardships. Finally, Leon spoke.

"So, the other two?" he asked quietly. He had only heard generalizations, nothing this in-depth as far as the tabooed spells went. Daniel coughed.

"Yes, of course." He had heard about the Longbottoms—the trial of their torturers got media coverage even in America. But to him, they had always been silhouettes—heroes, but faceless heroes nonetheless. Now he was sitting in a room with a friend of theirs and a boy who was a friend of their son's. He took a breath and continued in his explanations, idly wondering with a measure of irritation why Emmeline couldn't be doing it.

"Next there's the Imperius Curse. When done properly, it allows the caster to take complete control over the victim. It is possible to throw it off, but it can take a lot of work. If done improperly, it can cause brain damage as well—just not as severe as the Cruciatus.

"The final curse…the Avada Kedavra. The Killing Curse," he paused, looking at Harry. The boy's hand moved unconsciously to his forehead, touching the lightning bolt scar. Daniel nodded, telling him that his suspicions were correct.

"The only way to survive it is to summon something between you and it. There aren't any shields. Only one person has ever lived after being hit with it, and he became famous for it," he finished with an odd, twisted look on his face, as though he were trying to smile while licking a lemon.

"Is it green?" Harry asked after a moment, small voice breaking through the silence.

"Huh?"

"The curse…is it green?" Daniel's eyes hardened.

"How did you know that?"

"I…remember," Harry admitted. "I used to have a nightmare about a flash of green light, and later I remembered Voldemort laughing…it was that night." Gibbs' arm tightened around Harry's shoulders. Another round of silence followed.

"I still can't help but feel that we are missing something," Ziva finally said, frustrated. The others nodded, but an odd look passed over Tony's face.

"There's no such thing as a coincidence!" he yelled triumphantly, much to the confusion of the rest of the group.

"I knew you were slow, Tony, but don't tell me you're still stuck on that?" McGee quipped.

"Don't start on me, McGuppy," Tony shot back without missing a beat. "That—that one curse. What happened if you didn't do it right?"

"'That one curse' narrows it down to three, DiNozzo," Vance reminded him.

"Right. Um…'Imerious'…'Impompius'…'Im—'"

"Imperius?" Daniel asked, eyebrow raised.

"That's the one!" Tony grinned.

"It can cause brain damage—"

"Enough to make an old woman believe that a grown man is her nine-year-old grandson?" he pointed out. McGee and Ziva gasped.

"That lady from the hotel! She thought that we were her grandkids, Gibbs was her son, and Ducky was her husband!" McGee remembered.

"And I was supposedly your friend," Ziva added.

Emmeline nodded slowly. "It could be." She traded a look with Daniel. He rose, walking away from the group, pulling a chain out from under his shirt. Hanging from it was a pendant featuring what appeared to be a caduceus, with a wand rather than a staff. Underneath was inscribed "WCPS". He brought it to his mouth.

"I need a small team of aurors and mind healers sent to…" he listed the hotel and address, detailing the symptoms of the woman and the suspected cause. He returned to his seat, shooting a crooked grin at Harry.

"Y'know kid, I made a big mistake in thinking this was gonna be simple. This kind of thing happen often?"

"You have no idea," Harry mumbled into Gibbs' side. Honestly, he had never known how easy it was to fall asleep when someone was stroking your hair…a chuckle rose in Gibbs' chest.

"Tired? You were up late last night—wanna take a nap?"

"No!" Harry yelped, jerking into an upright position immediately. The group tried to control their laughter.

"Merlin, Harry, you had a long day yesterday. You've gotta be tired," Daniel pointed out.

"And I'll never get used to the time difference if I keep sleeping," Harry retorted, remaining stubbornly upright. Gibbs sighed—something that seemed to be a more and more common occurrence.

"Fine," he conceded. "But you're going to bed on time tonight."

"Okay," the near-fourteen-year-old agreed.

"So, the next problem—"

"Harry's schooling," Gibbs put in. Daniel pouted.

"Can't I get a word out?" he grumbled. Gibbs made eye contact with Tony.

_WHACK!_ Daniel rubbed the back of his head. "Hey! What was that for?"

"You work with Team Gibbs, you learn to live with Gibbs," Abby said happily. Tony snorted.

"So says the one who's never been Gibbs-slapped," he muttered.

"What was that, Tony?" Abby said sweetly.

"I said—"

"Do I need to come over there?" Gibbs asked. They immediately stopped bickering and shook their heads. "Good. Now, what are we doing about Harry's school?"

"I want to go to Hogwarts," Harry automatically said.

"Isn't it all the way in Scotland?" Ducky asked, frowning. "I know it can be hard to move to a new school, Harry, but attending school all the way across the ocean is quite—"

"We could use magic transportation," Harry pleaded. Gibbs frowned slightly. It was good that Harry was coming out of his shell and asking for things, but why was this so important to him?

"Harry," he began gently. "I'm sure there are perfectly good magical schools here in America." He silently cursed as he saw the boy begin to close up. "Why are you so set on Hogwarts? No, don't do this."

Harry's eyes were darting around as though looking for an escape route. Gibbs quickly waved the others from the room, glaring at Daniel when he showed hesitancy. He pulled Harry onto his lap in the chair, much like he had down in autopsy the day before.

"Harry, I just want you to talk to me," he said soothingly. Harry closed his eyes and leaned up against Gibbs' chest, trying to control his breathing. Anger flared up inside of him. Why was he allowing this man to get to him? He had been doing perfectly fine before _they_ had gotten involved—he had lived with the Dursleys for nearly thirteen years. Sure it wasn't the perfect lifestyle, but he had Hogwarts, and Ron, and Hermione—

He ripped himself out of Gibbs' embrace, backing up slowly. Gibbs was shocked at the level of anger shown in the boy's vivid green eyes and slowly, without any sudden movements, slid off the chair.

"Harry—"

"No!" Harry yelled. "You don't know what it's like—I didn't have any friends before I went to Hogwarts! Dudley scared them all away! Ron and Hermione are the only ones I have! Hogwarts is my _home!_ It's the only place I've ever belonged!"

Looking past the anger, Gibbs saw the anguish and fear in the young boy's eyes. He was afraid—afraid of getting close to anyone, afraid that his best friends would be taken away, and afraid that the only place he had ever called home would cease to exist in his world. He reached forward and pulled Harry into his arms, allowing him to collapse exhaustedly into them.

"I'll do my best," he promised. "I'll do my best to make sure you don't lose that. But I hope that you can come to see that it's not the only place that you belong."

* * *

**A/N**: So, kind of rough ending there. Short chapter too, I think. But it's an update! But now, the fun part: OPINION TIME!

SHOULD Harry take Gibbs' last name? If so, how (like, Potter-Gibbs, Potter Gibbs, Gibbs-Potter, Gibbs Potter, or just Gibbs)?

SHOULD, at ANY POINT IN THE STORY, Harry call Gibbs "Dad"?

WHY is the author using caps lock?

Um, yeah, so the reason I don't do polls is because I don't just go off of numbers (how many people like what). I like to listen to people's arguments as to "why" or "why not". So yeah. Also, I could use some movie references for Tony, if it's not too much trouble. Thanks!


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry about the long update, going through rough times. I don't own.**

**Concerns about Harry being a 'wimp': **Not a wimp, simply going through extreme emotional…difficulties…let's get on with the story.

**Hang on, I lied: a very special thanks goes out to **_**Milarqui,**_** who has given me fabulous ideas for both "Learning to Love" and "Resistance Plan" (for those of you who haven't read it, it's more humorous and involves taking on Umbridge) and is responsible for killing my writer's block. Kudos to him, and if you haven't already check out some of his stories; I greatly enjoy "Prodigy: Born Again". **_**Now**_** onto the story.**

**Learning to Love**

Two days had passed since Daniel sent the aurors and mind healers after the woman from the hotel. They had apprehended the woman with relative ease, though once they got her to the hospital it was a different matter entirely.

At first she had been rather mild, a slightly frightened old woman who simply wanted her family. However, she soon became violent as they began the treatment to help counteract the negative effects of the poorly-applied Imperius curse. It took restraints, an extremely accomplished Legilimens, and many hours before they managed to keep her lucid long enough to get any information from her. At first it seemed as though she didn't know anything; it turned out that she was just an elderly Muggle woman who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fortunately, they were able to extract an image from her mind that was _extremely_ valuable to the investigation—an image of Jasper Torin.

The Torins were an old pureblooded American wizarding family, very similar to the Malfoys (in fact, it was almost guaranteed that they shared a common ancestry). A squadron of aurors was dispatched to arrest Jasper on account of Muggle-baiting and suspected use of an Unforgiveable Curse. Naturally, Gibbs demanded to interrogate him, along with Auror Amanda Ashcroft (known jokingly among her fellow aurors as "Triple 'A'").

Amanda was attached to the MCRT by the American Auror Office, as NCIS was claiming jurisdiction on the Levine case. The thing was, even Gibbs had to admit that they needed some sort of connection to the magical world, and Daniel wouldn't be able to arrest anyone Torin named. So, with a few calls made by Vance, Amanda was brought in.

"Are you sure that you don't want to use Veritaserum?" Amanda asked Gibbs skeptically on the eve of the interrogation as they sat drinking tea, coffee, and, in Abby's case, Caf-Pow in Gibbs' living room. The place had become a sort of meeting area for the strange group, somewhere they could discuss magic without having to worry about being overheard.

"Victim was nonmagic—"

"And killed by magic—"

"Found by a nonmagic family—"

"Well technically Harry's a wizard—"

"_My _team began the investigation—"

"And you're lucky that you all weren't obliviated on the spot—"

"_We_ got jurisdiction—"

"Only because the bureaucracy didn't want to deal with the death of a squib—"

"And I'll damn well be interrogating _my_ suspect _my_ way!" Gibbs finished loudly, not paying any mind to Amanda's protests. The rest of the group just watched as though it were some sort of bizarre tennis match—not that the argument was anything new. Gibbs and Amanda had bashed heads since day one, though not in a bad way, as one would see if they examined each argument carefully.

Amanda, with her brown hair, deep brown eyes, and knows-what-she-wants attitude was unafraid to voice her opinion, even to the silver-haired Marine who headed the MCRT. This had earned her the respect of said Marine, combined with her deep caring for others that shone through especially when she interacted with Harry. So, despite the frequent clashing between the two, the group had a high morale and were convinced that the case would soon be done and over with.

"I originally wanted to work with kids," she had told them, "but then I went over to Britain on an exchange trip during their war and saw firsthand how much the aurors helped the children. When I came back home and my little sister was killed by a "minor" dark wizard here in the States, I knew what I had to do."

Her background in childcare along with Daniel's involvement proved to be a blessing when the adults had decided to go over all information that was to be had on the Torins. As it turned out, they had a little girl of about three years of age, who would likely be lost into the system if Jasper Torin was tried and found guilty of the charges against him—unlike the Malfoy matriarch, her mother wouldn't be able to stand on her own two feet if her husband were taken from her. It was, they supposed, a blessing that little Amilie Torin was so young, far too innocent to be corrupted by the cruel, prejudiced ideals of her father…

"Fine!" Amanda exclaimed, throwing up her hands, though she turned and winked at Harry as she did so. "Have it your way."

"Well, it's not as though Veritaserum would hold up well in court, anyway," Daniel threw in carelessly, not at all thrown by the arguing alphas. "Torin could probably find a way around it."

"That argument doesn't work as well when the person is admitting to being guilty as opposed to saying that they're innocent," Emmeline pointed out. They had gone over the idea of Veritaserum while considering what to do about Sirius Black, and had eventually discarded the idea; the fact that an accomplished Occlumens or someone who could get their hands on the potion could possibly get by it made it a flimsy defense at best and it was likely that the courts wouldn't believe that someone from such an old pureblood family would lack the training or the funds for either.

"Doesn't matter," Daniel shook his head. "The magical government here may not be _as_ corrupted as across the pond, but they're still…"

"Politicians," Harry supplied, sipping at his tea, fervently glad that he was allowed to attend the meetings. The adults had decided that, as he was so involved anyway, he may as well listen in—it was better than having him try to pull some harebrained stunt.

"Exactly," Daniel approved, taking a swig of his coffee to emphasize his point. "They might give him a fairer trial than the Malfoys would get with your Ministry, but the fact remains that Torin has the lawyers and the money."

The group elapsed into silence, each sinking into their own thoughts. Finally, Ducky decided to speak up.

"Have you had any progress on Harry's schooling situation, Jethro?" he asked. Harry stiffened.

"I'm working on it, Duck. Hey," Gibbs turned to Daniel, Emmeline, and Amanda, "what if we got one of those port-key things that you mentioned? Could that get him to Hogwarts?"

Harry straightened up immediately. Would it work? Just before the arrest on Torin the other witches and wizard had brought up the problem of their suspect apparating or "portkeying" away—terms which they then proceeded to explain. It hadn't occurred to him then, but now…

"International portkeys are tricky things," Daniel began hesitantly, exchanging glances with Emmeline and Amanda. "You would need approval from our government as well as the Ministry if you wanted one, and they're downright expensive, too. So many restrictions on them and such…not to mention that they're just plain unpleasant to use. Worse than a normal portkey, and those'll knock the wind outta you any day."

"So they're not a good idea?" Harry asked, trying to hide how crestfallen he was.

"'Fraid not, kiddo," Daniel grimaced in sympathy. "Are you sure that you don't want to try a school here? I went to Salem Wizards Academy—it's right by the Witches Academy—and it was a great school." Harry shook his head firmly.

"I _belong_ at Hogwarts," he said, though he allowed no petulance to seep into his voice. Even when he thought back on everything that had happened over all his years at the school, he still couldn't think of himself attending anywhere but there. It was his first home, and nothing these people said would be able to change that.

"You have said that the Potters have quite a bit of money," Ziva began cautiously. Everyone turned to her. "And factoring in Gibbs' salary Harry would easily be able to fly from here to England at the ends of breaks and back at the beginning."

"And you think I want him on a plane alone?" Gibbs immediately jumped on the defensive.

"I'm not a child," Harry huffed under his breath.

"Maybe, but from what I've heard you sure do have a habit of finding trouble everywhere you go," Gibbs shot back. "And alone in an airport—who knows what could happen?"

"Death Eaters would probably attack, kidnap me, and then bring me to the spirit of Voldemort," Harry replied, only partly sarcastic. Gibbs' eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth, but Daniel cut him off by grabbing his arm. Everyone stared, both at his audacity and Harry's disrespect.

"Can I talk to you? Alone?" he asked, meaningfully eyeing the kitchen.

"Fine," Gibbs said gruffly, standing up abruptly.

"Harry, why don't you go wait in your room and calm down a bit," Daniel ordered the teen.

"What? But—"

"Now," the older man said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Harry stared at the usually care-free man, surprised by the authority in his voice. A flicker of anger rose inside him—who was this man, to order him around? Almost like a parent…_No, don't go there,_ he sternly reminded himself. But he truly wasn't used to adults treating him like this…Professor McGonagall did so on occasion, but she was his _teacher_, not like _them_…It almost reminded him of Sirius, or how Sirius should have been, _would_ have been if they had managed to catch Pettigrew…"Fine," he snapped, sharper than he had intended, and stalked out of the room. Daniel sighed and turned to Gibbs, jerking his head toward the kitchen. Ducky and Vance rose and followed them.

"What the hell was that all about?" Gibbs asked, concern and anger warring for attention in his voice.

Leaning against the counter, Daniel gave a sardonic smile. "You said that you used to have a daughter," he reminded, ignoring the slight flinch the Marine gave. "You're telling me she never acted like that?"

"Well—no, but she—she was always like that, like her mother, and, well, me. Harry—he's been so _quiet_, he hasn't acted like this!"

"Honestly, Jethro, forgive me but you _are_ out of practice in being a parent," Ducky said impatiently. "He's _testing_ you!"

"My kids still do it," Leon butted in quietly. "But Harry's in a different position than them. He's never had proper boundaries, and now that he has someone who can give them to him he's trying to find out how much he can get away with."

"Not to mention that he needs to know what your reaction will be," Daniel added. "I've dealt with abused kids before—they don't know what to expect from a proper, loving environment. Oftentimes they've never known one before, or it's been so long that they can't remember what it feels like or how to act. Same with the kids who've been punted around from home to home, where the expectations constantly change. I suspect that Harry's dealing with a bit of both. The Dursley's expectations, standards, and rules probably shifted constantly. He put up with that for ten years of his life, then went off to Hogwarts where there was yet another set of rules and expectations to deal with, a set that was different than everyone else's due to his "Boy-Who-Lived" status. Now there's the culture shock, adjusting to a new home and rules, and also wondering if he'll be able to see his friends and be in that familiar environment again.

"The best thing you can do for him right now is to show him that you love and care for him, but that you also won't put up with any disrespect or defiance. Sit down with him once you're both calm, talk about what happened and why it did, and have the pair of you come up with a set of rules together—he'll probably follow them better if he has a hand in making them, along with knowing the reasons behind them."

Gibbs let out a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding. Yes, he had been a father before, and he was a strong Marine and a damn good investigator, but he had to admit to himself that he _didn't_ have the experience to care for an abused and neglected boy without help. Trying to do otherwise would only end up hurting Harry further, something that could only lengthen his list of things he could never forgive himself for.

"Alright," he nodded curtly. "I'll go talk to him. I trust you and the rest can show yourselves out?" The others agreed and returned to the living room, leaving him alone. He listened as they all filed out as he rummaged in one of his drawers for a pencil and a piece of paper.

Harry gazed out the window as he sat on his bed—_his_ bed…it was such a strange thought. The title didn't imply that it was temporary, or that he was borrowing it, like in the dormitory at Hogwarts or in the bedroom at the Dursleys. The question was, did it still belong to him?

He knew that he shouldn't have spoken that way to Gibbs and Daniel. But…it was all so different. He knew, more or less, how he was supposed to act at Hogwarts and the Dursleys—a hero and a slave respectively. But here? A child? He snorted slightly—fat chance. Sure, he had a few panic attacks, allowed Gibbs to comfort him through physical contact, but he hadn't been aware that it had been signing some kind of contract. But…was he supposed to act that way all the time now?

He jumped as a soft knock came at his door, and was about to get up when Gibbs poked his head inside. "Can I come in?" the Marine asked. Harry gave a slight jerk of the head, not entirely sure himself what he was trying to communicate but Gibbs decided to take it as confirmation. He entered and settled himself on the edge of Harry's bed and watched intently as the boy quickly rearranged himself so that he was sitting in a criss-cross position with his back against the headboard.

Harry looked on curiously and with no small amount of apprehension as Gibbs laid a pencil and a pad of paper on the table beside the bed.

"We need to talk…"

**A/N**: Alright, please don't kill me or anything…I'm sorry that this chapter is so…lacking. I've been working on it _forever_ and it just _wouldn't happen_. I'm sure the other writers out there'll understand. So I decided to end it there. I'm really hoping that it'll be able to pick up soon. Again, sorry for the long update time.


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